#blessed the latter part more than the former part
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blessed the latter part
papa iv/copia x reader
You could watch the snow falling outside where you sat in the library. Your table and chair was tucked away, in a corner by a window, hidden by a few catacombs and bookshelves. This was your favorite spot to sit quietly and be away from the hustle and bustle of life in the abbey, and days where you received your favorite visitor here were all the more special.
You weren’t expecting Copia to come find you today, however. His pillow talk the previous night had consisted of a few regrettable changes to plans for the week due to some meetings that were an ugly surprise from Sister Imperator. Copia’s break was ending, you feared what came next for your lover-in-secret. What started as a few flirty texts while he was away on tour as a cardinal turned into an on and off affair that had been on since Copia brought you on the first leg of the Imperatour. You didn’t want to tell anyone at the ministry about it, but the ghouls knew. The ghouls always knew, but aside from them, as far as you knew, it was secret.
He had also asked you to do some research for him, so like a good partner, you set aside a few hours to attempt to answer a few of his questions about the book of Job and his peculiar award. You could still see the adorable roll of his brows and the creases in his eyelids as he asked you why Job would name his daughter Eyeshadow in the candle light.
You were started, then, when you heard some familiar footfalls echo off the marble walls towards you. He stopped a few feet away from you, his shadow elongating across the snowy window, and cleared his throat timidly. It was one of your favorite Copia noises and you smiled warmly at the welcome sight of your lover.
“Your bangs are curly.”
You looked up to find him standing above you, his jacket off and cracked in his arms. His frame was hugged by his waistcoat, and the sight was intoxicating. You motioned for him to sit at the table — he obliged after some coaxing.
“Yeah-“ you cleared your throat and watched as he sat besides you, “I didn’t have time to straighten them this morning.”
Copia leaned over and gently tapped the end of his pen against your temple. When you giggled, he dragged it through the front part of your hair, a short curl springing out and framing your forehead. “They look so beautiful,” he hummed softly, his other hand moving towards the back of your head. You felt his fingertips pad against your scalp, someplace between a message and a scratch, sensational through your still damp roots. You had to fight your eyes from rolling back into your head and a moan slipping out of your lips, and your efforts only half worked.
“Papa…” you whispered, knowing you were the only two in this part of the library but still scared of someone finding you here like this. So scared of your secret romance finally being exposed. So scared of Imperator hearing you call him by his name and banishing you on the spot.
Copia, sensing your apprehension, just smiled at you calmly. He kept his hand behind your head but brought his over around your face, his fingers gently running over the little curlies around your eyes. “I like them like this, a lot. Very sweet, amore.” He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss above the tail of your eyebrow, his lips gently grazing over your bangs in the process. “My sweet love, dolce amore.”
Copia loved to whisper to you in public. Little words of affection and terms of endearment sent out only for you to receive, his love declared for you in the most visible of secret places. You knew you couldn’t keep this up forever, but you enjoyed the idea that you could and enjoyed that you were fooling everyone so terribly.
“I’m glad I get to see you today,” you whispered, subconsciously leaning into the touch you craved, “I thought I wouldn’t until dinner, if I was lucky.”
“Things are going smoother than anticipated,” Copia grinned, his papal paint slightly smudged around his lips from biting or pursing or the quick good-bye you snuck in this morning or the latte you snuck him later in the day, “I think the ghouls wanted to rush, for some reason.” He leaned forward and gently leaned his forehead against yours, “But I think I can guess. They’re very compassionate.”
You giggled at the thought of the ghouls cooperating just to get Copia back home to you, even if it was just for a fifteen minute break. “That’s so sweet.”
“Aurora told me your hair was cute today,” Copia mused, twirling one of your curled bangs around his fingers, “your hair is cute everyday but she was right about this one. I never get to see this.”
You tilted your chin up to meet Copia’s lips in a soft, delicate kiss, careful of the remaining paint around his lips. He hummed appreciatively, satisfaction coursing through his soul.
“I love you,” he whispered before reconnecting with you in another kiss.
“When will I see you next?” You whispered back, your breath fanning across his lips.
“Dinner, probably,” he said with a wistful sigh, “but I had to see you for some motivation. Tu mi dai la forza, angelo.”
“Mmm, that reminds me,” you said, a dopey smile on your face as you swam in his sweet scent and his sweet words, “I need another Italian lesson, Papa.”
“But you just had one last night,” Copia mused, tapping your chin lovingly, “I’m a busy Papa, you know. Can’t spend all my nights teaching you the language of love.”
That was a lie, or a half truth, perhaps — Copia would be a busy Papa because of you. He would be busy with you, devoting all his time to enjoying and loving and treasuring you. Copia didn’t plan to spend another night apart from you. He’d gladly give all of his nights to you, if you’d have them.
“I’m sure you can tweak your schedule to fit me in,” you pouted. Copia took the opportunity to press a kiss full and flush into your lips, papal makeup be damned.
“Then I’ll prepare a lesson,” he said softly as he stood back up.
“Oh, please don’t go,” you said, reaching up to take his hand in yours.
“mi dispiace, amore,” Copia replied as he laid his other hand on your face, cupping it gently. His thumb gently brushed your curly bangs out of your eyes. “I have to get back so we can end today before six.”
You nodded, turning your head to kiss the inside of his wrist, between the end of his glove and the beginning of his sleeve. “I understand but that doesn’t mean I like it.”
Copia laughed softly and nodded, leaning down to give you one last forehead kiss. “I know, I know. Find me some answers, okay? I trust you.” He stroked your face lovingly, his eyes staring down into yours and drinking you in before he gently patted your cheek. “I’ll see you soon, baby.” He said, almost mournfully as he went back to his meeting and he left you with his research, which would be filled with his name in hearts by the latter half of the hour, more than the former part.
#the band ghost#papa emeritus iv#copia#ghost#copia my beloved#papa emeritus iv x reader#ghost bc#cardinal copia#cardinal copia x reader#cardinal copia fanfic#projecting my curly hair onto the reader#but still tried to be vague#author majored in theology#also projecting my theology degree onto the reader#blessed the latter part more than the former part#book of job#I think biblical theology and ghost project coexist which is cool#Mariana writes
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Flustered: Part 2 (FINAL)
Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Two-Part Fic: SMUT
Request by @aryarcharon: enemies to lovers, fuckboy!Bucky, praise kink.
Summary: You might be able to fuck away a crush but you can't fuck away an obsession.
Warnings: profanity, fuckboy!Bucky, size kink, praise kink, oral sex (female receiving), kinda threat with a belt in the bedroom but nothing happens, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 3.9k
A/N: I hope this meets some expectations lmao, I get nervous when the first part of a series or two-part thing gets a lot of attention. Also to the people who have randomly tipped me, BLESS YOU 🥹🖤 I actually cry a little when I get those notifs.
Fucking someone, anyone but you, is what Bucky needs tonight. It’s what he’s needed every night since he met you honestly, but especially tonight. The dangerous game that the two of you have been playing has left Bucky with a feeling similar to that of climbing Mount Everest. The longer the climb goes on, the harder it gets for him to breathe. God, it feels like his lungs are trapped at a high altitude every minute that he’s around you at this point. So, Bucky will be skipping the monthly team game night to fuck a girl he met two days ago.
He pulls his leather jacket over his arms and shoves the key to his bike in his pocket as he gives himself one last look in the mirror. The tiniest seed of doubt presents itself in his mind as he meets his own gaze in the mirror. Fucking someone else won’t fix this. Fucking someone else might put a crush out of one’s mind…but this is more than a crush. As Bucky stands there, staring at himself, the realization comes crashing in like a damn freight train running off of its rails. This is obsession.
If Bucky’s breathing can be compared to the struggle of oxygenation at a high altitude, then your breathing can be compared to taking one’s first natural breath after a successful lung transplant. Every time you say something to get under his skin, every time you watch his smirk fall away and his chest rise and fall a little faster, you suddenly feel like you’re standing outside, taking in a breath of cool, crisp autumn air. The dirty little game between the two of you is simultaneously ruining Bucky’s life and giving you life.
________________
“Hey, you’re staying for game night?” Sam’s voice rings out as Bucky steps into the main living area, where the entire team is gathered both on the couch and the nearby floor. The entire team except for you, he notices, as he scans the group.
“I have somewhere to be.” Bucky answers gruffly, coming to stand next to the end of the couch where Sam sits.
“Hot date?” Sam jokes, giving him a quick once-over. As soon as he sees the leather jacket, he knows he’s either taking the bike out to wherever he’s going, or he’s going on a mission. Sam is positive it’s the former, because if it was the latter, he’d know about it.
“Always.” Bucky says with a smirk, shoving Sam’s shoulder. As the rest of the team begins chatting amongst themselves, Bucky catches himself looking around for you. Are you out tonight? Do you have a date? Bucky’s jaw clenches as he briefly envisions you dressing up for your trainer and sitting down to have a meal with him. You had better fucking not.
“Heading out?” The unexpected sound of your voice breaks Bucky out of his moment of mental weakness and he turns around quickly, coming to face you. You must’ve been in your room, he thinks, since you came from the direction of the hallway. Of course his obsessive mind would assume that you went out with the piece of shit who thinks you’re as fragile as a damn butterfly. “That’s too bad, I was really looking forward to kicking your ass tonight.”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” Bucky says calmly, staring into your eyes as the room grows quiet.
“But I thought—” Sam begins repeating Bucky’s earlier claim that he had somewhere to be, but he’s quickly cut off by Bucky shooting him a look that says something along the lines of say one more word and watch what happens. “Oh, right, your date is tomorrow night, not tonight.” Sam recovers with a lie. After one look at you, Bucky abandoned his plan to fuck away his feelings. You brush past him to take a seat on the floor by the coffee table, and as your arm collides with the fabric of his leather jacket, all he can think about is the image of a freight train careening off the rails and going up in a fiery blaze. Obsession. His obsession with you is going to be his undoing, he’s sure of it.
______
The team game night was significantly more intense than normal with both you and Bucky being present. Well, it wasn’t just the fact that you were both in attendance for once. It was the fact that you were both so set on showing one another up. The entire night basically turned into a cut-throat duel, with cards and game pieces instead of knives and guns.
You stand in the living area alone now, stacking up all of the game boxes on the coffee table as you listen to the soft sound of the kitchen faucet running. After all of your back and forth arguing and shit-giving, you and Bucky were forced to take the cleanup duty yourselves, as restitution. You thought Bucky would continue on with the act once everyone went their separate ways for bed, but you were utterly surprised when he offered to take the kitchen cleanup and leave you only to handle the games. It was as if whatever competitive, teasing switch he had that had been turned on all night was suddenly turned off once he had you alone.
Bucky rinses off the last dish in the sink, watching intently as the suds run down his vibranium fingers and into the drain. With every dish he washed, he imagined his obsession going down the drain with the suds. It was almost therapeutic, until he sensed you stepping into the kitchen behind him. He stiffened instantly as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
You stand still as Bucky turns off the faucet and sets the final clean dish in the drying rack. You don’t really know why you decided to approach him. You could’ve gone to bed once you finished putting the games away, but your feet carried you in the opposite direction. So, now here you are, staring at the defined muscles of his back through his taut shirt.
“What’s up with you?” You ask quietly, leaning back against the island a couple of feet behind Bucky. You realize you’re in similar positions as the night you figured out that he has a size kink, except you’ve switched places.
“What do you mean?” He answers your question with his own as he towels his hands dry and turns around to mirror your position. He leans back against the front of the sink as he looks you over carefully. You’re suddenly entranced by the way he meticulously dries in every little crevice of his vibranium arm, as if he’s done it thoroughly a thousand times before, as if it’s a routine. When he notices you staring at the action, that familiar smirk returns to his face. “You don’t know how to act around me when I’m not fucking around with you, do you?” He asks in a near condescending tone. You narrow your eyes as you raise them to meet his gaze. When you don’t say anything in response, Bucky continues his work with the towel, warring within himself. He knows he shouldn’t keep going like this. He should leave right now and spend the night with any other woman underneath him so he can bury whatever it is that he feels about you. But the next words leave his lips anyway. “You miss it, don’t you? You can’t stand not having my attention, even for five minutes.”
“Bullshit. You’re too damn cocky for your own good.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t make a move to leave the kitchen, and Bucky takes note of that.
“And you’re a tease. Which is worse?” Bucky asks. He begins carefully folding the towel, slower than you’ve ever seen him do anything. You’re mesmerized by his hands.
“I’m not a tease.”
“Bullshit.” Bucky calls out, setting the towel on the countertop beside him.
“I’m not.”
Bucky exhales slowly as he pushes away from the sink and straightens up before you. The look he gives you sends an icy shiver down your spine.
“Good girls don’t lie.”
______
To you, the next two minutes were a blur. The only thing that registered in your mind was a brief, fleeting thought of not giving a fuck and punching Bucky in his smug face. Your legs had the right idea when they rushed forward, carrying you straight toward him, but the rest of your body betrayed you and somehow you ended up kissing him.
Bucky didn’t even return your kiss at first. He stood there, completely stunned, as your soft lips met his. It took two seconds before his senses were able to convince his body that this was actually happening, and then he lost every ounce of control. The days of back and forth teasing, the innuendos, the lingering glance, it all came together like a pile of firewood and combusted right there in the kitchen. Bucky’s right hand tangled in your hair like it was instinct. As his palm connected with the nape of your neck, he gave your hair a gentle tug and earned himself a sweet moan that traveled from your mouth, straight into his.
He was fucked.
Now, Bucky’s heart is beating out of his chest as he watches you step into his dark bedroom in front of him. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears as he turns around and pushes the door shut, turning the lock into place and then taking a deep breath. Obsession. He has you in his fucking bedroom. He started out the night telling himself to go fuck another woman and now he has you right where he’s always wanted you.
His room smells just like him. It’s dark, but not so dark that you can’t make out his neatly made bed and distinct lack of decor in the space. You’re suddenly aware of the reason why he never brings women here, always choosing to meet them elsewhere instead. The place could be mistaken for a hotel room, without a single personal memento or hint that a person actually lives here. You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you take in the new setting. When you turn around to face him, he’s leaning against the door.
“You don’t have a single picture in here.” You point out casually, as if you didn’t just jump the man three minutes ago and then follow him to his bedroom for god knows what. Bucky keeps his eyes trained on yours.
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Among other things, yeah.” You admit, walking backwards until you feel the edge of his mattress against the backs of your knees. You sink down onto it, maintaining eye contact through the dark space around you.
“Other things…” Bucky mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair and for a second, he almost looks unsure of himself.
“You were so cocky just five minutes ago.” You tsk, shaking your head. “I didn’t expect Bucky Barnes, the ultimate man-whore, to have performance issues.” Your words could’ve gone in either one of two very different directions. You could’ve hit a sensitive spot of his and turned him off, or you could’ve brought out the side of him you’ve been seeing for days.
“You talk so fucking big for someone so fucking small.” Bucky’s demeanor shifts, and suddenly the energy in the room is as charged as it was the day you sparred with him. You’re silent as he steps away from the door and starts undoing his belt with one hand. One. Fucking. Hand.
“Bucky—”
“No, you sit there and look pretty, don’t say a fucking word.”
You close your mouth instantly, partially due to the shock of his boldness but mostly because when Bucky Barnes tells you what to do, with his hand on his belt, you’ll do it. You aren’t quite sure when your body decided to switch from always wanting to do the opposite of what he said to wanting to do everything he says, but you have a feeling it happened around the time he started praising you for the tiniest things.
“That’s right, you can’t even help yourself, can you? You listen to me because you know it’ll get you what you want.” His voice is smooth and even. Any hint of hesitation has vanished. As he pulls his belt out of the belt loops, he glances down at the strip of leather in his hands. So many things he could do with it, he thinks. He steps even closer to where you sit at the foot of the bed and you swallow hard as you look up at him. Bucky’s mind is reeling. He remembers the way you looked up at your trainer in the gym that day, the way you smiled at him. He almost laughs thinking about how jealous he was of that. And now he has you like this. Bucky drops the belt on the bed beside you and then pulls his shirt over his head in one swift movement, dropping it on the floor beside your feet. As your gaze drops to take in the sight of his toned chest, the scars along his left shoulder, his godly abs, he smiles to himself.
You feel the last dry fabric between your legs become wet when he hooks a finger under your chin and tilts it upwards, forcing you to look up at him once more.
“Keep behaving, and I won’t touch that.” He says evenly, cocking his head in the direction of the belt. Bucky slowly drops to his knees in front of you, placing both hands firmly on your thighs. “Act up, and you’ll have two reasons why you can’t sit down tomorrow, instead of one.”
When he talks to you like that, things either start moving in slow motion or they start fast forwarding. You find yourself flat on your back, with your legs hooked over his shoulders so suddenly that you aren’t sure if it happened in seconds or minutes. You aren’t even sure if you said a word, though the belt still lies on the bed beside you so you must’ve kept his command and stayed quiet.
“You have no idea…” Bucky whispers as he kisses along your inner thigh. “No idea how long I’ve wanted to be between these thighs.” His admission sends blush to your cheeks and a shudder throughout your body. He raises his head for a moment and looks into your eyes. Fuck, he needs to stop doing that. Every time he makes eye contact with you, he’s pushed closer and closer to throwing every care out the window and fucking you like a goddamn animal. He focuses on your dripping cunt instead, finally giving himself the chance to admire it. Every time he breathes you feel it. When he presses his tongue flat against your entrance and begins to drag it up toward your clit, your back arches off the bed at the sudden contact.
“Fuck.” You exhale the word sharply, letting your eyes flutter closed and your fists grip his bedding. As soon as the word leaves your mouth, you remember what he said. Don’t say a fucking word.
“You taste so fucking sweet.” Bucky groans, breaking away from your cunt and pressing his forehead against your thigh to ground himself. “Shit.”
Seconds later, Bucky is working his tongue all over you, into you, like he really has waited forever for this moment. His desperation and fervency only adds to the sensations between your legs, causing a knot to twist in your lower stomach at record speed. As soft whimpers and moans slip past your lips, which you’re trying hard to keep pressed together, Bucky sucks on your clit and remembers what he told you to do.
“Let me hear you, please.” He says just loud enough for you to hear, before diving right back in. In that moment, you can’t believe the filthy sounds that begin spewing from your mouth. Bucky eats up every single sound, every single swear, every single syllable of his name falling from your lips. His name. God, every time you moan his name, his cock twitches in his jeans and he loses another piece of his mind. When your back arches off the bed again and your thighs tighten on the sides of his head, he knows you’re right on the edge. That’s when he, without warning, flicks his tongue over your clit and slips two fingers inside of you. With a few thrusts and curls of his fingers against your walls, and his mouth’s unrelenting actions on your clit, you’re coming undone for him. “That’s it, cum for me.” He encourages you, practically finger fucking you right through your orgasm. “I knew you’d sound so fucking pretty when you cum.”
You’re a limp, panting mess on his bed as he crawls over you, peppering your naked body with kisses all the way up.
“Talk to me.” He coos, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as he waits for you to say something, anything.
“That was…” You take a deep breath mid-sentence, trying to steady your voice. “You just…” You’re mentally kicking yourself for not being able to form a coherent sentence. You have no doubt that your loss of basic speech skills is only going to inflate his ego.
“That was a fucking dream.” He says softly, sucking on your earlobe and then moving to hover over you. He takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are blown, and you’re struggling to catch your breath. It’s adorable. “Can you move up higher in the bed or do I need to move you myself?” He asks. At first, you think he’s joking, but when you look into his eyes you see that he’s dead serious. A moment later, you’re settling in with your head on his pillow as he stands beside the bed and strips every last shred of his clothes off. Though your eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the room, the shadows make it impossible to see Bucky’s fully naked form. It isn’t until he’s positioning himself back on top of you that you get the answer to the question that had been on your mind.
“Oh my god, Bucky.” You gasp as his hard cock presses firmly against your thigh.
“Hmm?” He knows exactly what you’re reacting to, and if you could see the smirk painted across his face right now you’d probably want to slap him.
“It’s…you’re so big.” Your voice turns into a whisper. You’re sure you feel his cock twitch and a little bit of precum drip onto your thigh when the words leave your lips. Oh, right. Bucky’s size kink. It makes sense now. How could a guy with such a big dick not have a size kink? “It’s not going to fit.” You say assuredly.
“Oh, it’ll fit. Remember what you said?” Bucky remembers what you said like it was five minutes ago. “I can take whatever you have to give me. You said that to me.” He reminds you.
“I didn’t know—”
“Oh, you knew.” He chuckles, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. He distracts you with ease, licking along your bottom lip and then letting it delve into your mouth gently, just as he grinds the head of his cock against your clit. You gasp into the kiss, which only encourages him to deepen it further. He starts rutting against you, dragging his cock back and forth between your folds with every movement of his hips. If he had it his way, he’d be fully sheathed within you right now, fucking you so hard you’d see stars.
Bucky lets the head of his cock get closer and closer to your entrance with every rut of his hips, but he continues distracting you with his mouth. He fully intended to keep kissing you when he finally let his cock slide into you, but just as he notches inside of you and starts pushing in, he breaks the kiss.
His lips hover within millimeters of yours as your pussy grips him and pulls him in deeper and deeper. You’re both open-mouthed, breathing into each other, looking into each other’s eyes as your bodies meld together. Obsession. It’s the only word on his mind as he watches your eyes squeeze shut while your legs spread all for him.
He fucks you slowly at first, giving you time to adjust as he sticks to shallow thrusts. When your eyes open and you look up at him once again, he smiles down at you and picks up the pace, thrusting a little deeper as you start to focus on the feel of him. But when your name leaves his lips and you start scratching your nails down his bare back? He starts fucking you like he owns you. He fucks you as meticulously as he cleaned the crevices of his vibranium arm earlier.
“Fuck, you’re taking me so well.” Bucky groans, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. “My cock is splitting you in half and you’re fucking taking it.” He can feel how close you are, and the absolutely cock-drunk expression on your face only confirms it. Your expression paired with the most sultry moans he’s ever heard have him following you right to the edge. “You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl, ready to cum all over my cock.”
“Bucky, if you keep talking like that—fuck.” He only speeds up when you start talking, convinced that if you’re still talking, he’s not fucking you hard enough.
“Shut the fuck up.” He groans, hating the way those few simple words from you nearly made him blow his load. “Shit.” Bucky hooks your legs around his waist and pulls your arms away from his back, pinning them down on the bed on either side of your head. He doesn’t have to say another word for you to know what he’s doing. He’s fucking you until you can’t do anything, until you can’t say anything, until all you can do is cum for him.
Your orgasm is uncontrollable when it comes crashing in, making your back arch off of the bed and your bare chest press against his as you cry out his name.
Bucky’s orgasm? Bucky’s orgasm was so much more uncontrollable that it didn’t even cross his mind to pull out and cum anywhere except inside of you. He pushed so deep inside of you when he started cumming that you swear you felt the heat of it in your stomach. Even when you were both finished, he just couldn’t stop thrusting in and out of you.
“Good girl, such a good girl.” He kept whispering against your neck as he rutted into you, using his own cum mixed with your wetness as lube.
As he collapses on top of you, your hands immediately move in two different directions. One begins tangling in his hair, gently massaging his scalp, while the other goes to caress his back with the softest touch. Only one word surfaces in your mind as you listen to his heavy breathing and focus on the feel of his skin against yours.
Obsession.
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#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x you#mcu#marvel#the winter soldier#winter soldier
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kinktober day fifteen: brat-taming kink
>>> god bless i love him so bad...brain rot for this plot...y'all should i make this one like a series fdskjkjgjkgj i swear to god i'm feeling this way about all my fics as of late!! this one has a lot of japanese symbolism and traditions included. i am not japanese and all my research came from different sources across google, but if anything is incorrect or insensitive pls reach out and let me know <3
>>> starring: suguru geto x curvy!f!reader
>>> cw: brat-taming, history/pining between reader and geto, face-fucking (m!receiving) edging (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), breeding, degradation/praise, pet names, creampie
>>> wc: 4.6k
>>> event masterlist:
he didn’t love the idea, to say the least. he understands why a marriage is necessary. it humanizes him, makes him relatable, opens the door to more preaching topics. he didn’t understand why he had to marry his fellow sorcerer and old classmate—especially one as mouthy as you. you didn’t either, forced into it by the higher ups with hopes you could bring suguru back to the right side of history, not taking your feelings into the matter at all, not that you expected them to. but you’re sure they already knew you wouldn’t be able to complete this mission—perhaps they hoped for your death at his hand.
at one point, you were friends. now, you were about to become the unwilling misses geto, though even that was more complicated than it seems. you were the third musketeer back in the day. even shoko preferred to stay out of the boys’ shenanigans, sticking to herself or utahime, not bothered in the slightest to let you chase after satoru and suguru. you were closer to the latter, finding it easy to gang up on the former together. he entertained your wit and you let him try out new moves on you. you loved each other. that’s why it hurt so bad—still hurts to this day—that he left and turned into this. and now you’re stuck in the thick of it.
you make him beyond angry. putting aside your utter disrespect and disobedience, you remind him of nothing but conflicting times, things he’d rather not think about now that those days were supposed to be far behind him. you hadn’t changed a bit from the day he left, and he hates that even more. you’re lively and talented, your powers long abused by the very higher ups that contributed to his madness and the ones that leveraged you into this ceremony. when he was told of your engagement, he could have refused and had them find him a new wife. he could have killed them all and refused this altogether—he’s not quite sure why he said yes. he pulls on his hakama trousers, smoothing at the pleats as he racks his brain. he slings his haori around his shoulders, and he realizes a small part of him may have always wanted to marry you; he remembers fantasies of you in high school, recalling how badly he yearned for your affection. and he hates that more than anything.
he knows you feel similarly about him, hence all your acting up. you had been short and cold and almost satoru level snotty with him through the engagement parties and wedding planning and obligatory dinners. you have the nerve to sneer as you speak and look at him with nothing but disgust. he’s the one who should be disgusted with you. you chose to stay with gojo over him, chose that world of lies and injustice when you could have been enlightened like him from the beginning. it’s only fitting you’re his bride, really. it’s what he deserves, as retribution for your betrayal. and he would make sure to claim what was his on his wedding night. the servants come to get him as he shrugs into his montsuki with a new smug smile replacing what was a dreading frown.
you wore a red iro-uchikake. and you look like a dream he had when he was a teenager. it’s ironic really. he knows not wearing the more traditional and all white shiromuku was another one of your jabs, but the color red was more significant to him than white. it means life, it wards off all evils. perhaps you knew that too, and that’s why you chose the color, though geto remembers you wearing the deep blood color often enough through adolescence that seeing you in it again makes some of the tightness in his chest let off just a little bit, even as you avoid his eyes.
he looked magnificent. his hair had grown longer, and you had always liked to play with it before, but now it cascades over his shoulder in waves despite the top-bun halving the thickness. you could hear your heart pound. if you were to tell the second year version of yourself that you would be sharing a wedding temple with suguru geto, you may have cried from relief and happiness. but as you get closer to him with no guests to witness this other than the priest and a handful of temple ladies, you feel the coursing energy of excitement and nerves. you aren’t sure what to expect from him now that no one will be watching. you don’t even truly know how he feels for you. he has been making attempts to earn your favor, but that was because he had a crowd.
he takes your hand and smiles down at you like he did when you were much younger and much less conflicted over your feelings. it makes your heart flutter like it used to, and your eyes widen a bit at his gentility. the priest offers his blessings to the gods as you two stand before him, hand-in-hand. your mind races. how much of this is real? and even if he’s being genuine, does it really matter? after everything he put you through, all the things he had done, the things he wants to do, can you look past it all just to love him anyway?
the temple servants set up the sakazuiki. they space the three ceremonial cups evenly apart, and fill them with the richest sake. san-san-kudo. you bite your lip, hating yourself for your doubt. suguru gently pulls you out of your head and towards the table, to the binding ceremony of old tradition. he picks up the first cup, holding it to his face.
“you look beautiful, okusan.” he smirks over the cup, looking oddly satisfied with himself, like he knows something you don’t. he then sips the first cup three times, holding your eyes. you feel your body burn, looking down at the kimono you chose and back to him. his fingers lightly brush against yours as you take the cup. you feel butterflies.
“thank you, geto-san.” you tilt your head down to indicate your grace, thoughts fuzzied by his intense stare and old feelings bubbling up your gut. you sip three times, and he picks up the next sakazuiki. he chuckles, and you swear you see a little bit of light in his deep eyes.
“are you waiting for titles until the conclusion of the ceremony, anata?” he piles on the mulit-meaning endearment, passing you the second cup. you nearly choke on your sake.
“no. you look very nice, uchi no hito.” you take your final sip, and it’s geto’s turn to stammer. he expected a tsureai or muko, but the one you chose had so much meaning. your home, your person. that’s what you called him. he knew the shock and wonder had to show on his face based off of your smug grin whenever you set the cup down. you think you can toy with him, pull stunts with him. you’re much too bold—and he wants to hate it, he wants to smother that personality right out of you, but for now–he’ll let himself love it.
“this binds us through our love, wisdom, and happiness.” he says the words to bring you together officially, tying your souls together for better or worse. he sips from the final cup three times, the symbolism not lost on you, and passes it to you to do the same.
“this binds us through our hatred, passion, and ignorance.” you look him in the eyes as you take your drinks, and his dark pink lips stretch into a wide smile.
“and now you are mine. how lucky we are to be brought back to each other in this way.” he chums, taking the wedding rings from his pocket as the priest continues offering his prayers to the skies. you hold out your hand expectantly, and he arches a brow.
“nine is not a lucky number, perhaps we’re cursed instead.” you shrug, that same smugness tugging at your lips. oh, you’re going to drive him crazy. you give him hope and you pull it away, you jab at him and you’re so gorgeous that he can’t even be upset with you for it. he slides the diamond encrusted with black gems down your third finger, giving you a smug smile of his own. he can play dirty too. he extends the box to you and you pluck his gold band from it, sliding it slowly down his finger. the excitement builds in your gut as you become more and more okay with whatever this is. you always thought he had a point. the jujutsu society was so horribly fucked up–maybe he was right all along and you were the coward after all. i mean, where did all your loyalty get you? sold off to a dangerous man with hopes to shut you up for good? passed around mission to mission until your body barely functioned anymore? maybe you could turn a blind eye to all his indiscretions, especially when he’s looking at you with such affection in once cold eyes. you still hold his hand in both of yours, and he enjoys the warmth, but you’ve pushed and poked him just enough, these teasing touches part of them.
instead of a kiss to seal this union once more, he leans down to your ear. “go get changed. i like simple lingerie.” he all but purrs in your ear, sending shivers down your spine at the order. you were losing sight of yourself at a rapid pace. you had hoped to hold out longer than this. his lips tickle the shell of your ear and a soft gasp leaves you. you tell yourself to be strong.
“and if i don’t? you’d be lucky to sleep with me at all, husband.” you sneer, and again he doesn’t know what to make of you, but he’s dedicated to figuring it out. he leans up and tilts his head, analyzing the lust in your eyes and the shakiness in your hands. he laughs at you when he realizes.
“go get changed, little pet. we’ll discuss your guilt and attitude later.” he shakes his head at you, his gaze making you feel as if you were already undressed before him. he turns, tossing that confident smirk over his shoulder again for good measure. “red is your color.”
and then the temple girls are at your side, ready to escort their new geto-sama to her new room in the geto estate.. you allow them, trailing silently as you wonder just what he was able to figure out by looking at you, and what lingerie you would put on for him.
you choose a red babydoll dress. the sheer plunging neckline leaves little to the imagination and the tight fit of the lace leaves even less. it fans out from your body from there, the fluffy hem stopping just below your ass. seeing yourself in the mirror, perched perfectly at the end of the bed, you smile. you imagine that qualifies as simple, though you’re sure it will still make him crazy for you. you’re embarrassed to want that, to dress yourself up and present yourself to him just as he asked. your friends would be ashamed, namely one. but as the door creaks open and you feel an icy stare raking over your body, you can’t quell your excitement.
he hums approvingly as the door clicks shut behind him. he’s so grateful he didn’t deny this union out of his own narrow minded rage. he never thought he would see you again after you denied him the first time, but here you are, on the bed you two would soon share in his home, now branded with his last name— all wrapped up like a christmas present.
“sugurin–” the old nickname flies off your tongue in your haste, and a fondness glosses over the devious intent in his eyes. you clear your throat and tug the sides of your dress down pathetically. “i... actually don’t know what to say.” you blink in realization, painfully aware of how alone you two are. was he still the same man you knew?
“don’t worry, kibōchi.” he returns his own nickname, the way you squirm in your place at the sound of it wasn’t lost on him, though the name puts you at was in the same way it stirs you up. his desire returns at your doe-eyed stare, you trust him to some extent, even through your wariness. “i’ll start. you were assigned to marry me, no?”
you nod your head, now knowing he wouldn’t hurt you, not with the fondness in which he says your name. your core tingles as he approaches you, a scarily sweet smile on his face.
“good. thank you for your honesty, anata girl.” he nods, sliding his crested black kimono off, the only proper covering of your wedding remaining on his body, for your convenience if anything. “and you’ve been such a brat because…? which is it: you’re mad at them, mad at me, or mad at yourself?”
you furrow your brows at his words. it seemed he learned everything in just an extended look at you. “am not a brat.” you fold your arms in indignation, incidentally proving him right. he just shakes his head, chuckling again.
“look at you. you didn’t answer my question and you’re pouting like a toddler.” he lets his gaze drift down to your body just begging for his touch. he can’t help but wonder what you’ll like and what your favorite position will be and how fertile you are and what kind of drive you’ll have, all things he never learned about you when you were just friends. you feel his scrutiny and fight through your mixed feelings to respond.
“can’t it be a mixture of all three?” you sigh out shakily, deciding to stick to your guns even if you want him, too.
he clicks his tongue in consideration. “i suppose. but the sorcerers of your past no longer have any influence over your life. and you should be more forgiving to yourself, even if you are being a snot.”
you scrunch your nose up in distaste, hating how his words soothe your heart. “you conveniently left yourself out of that equation.” you fold your arms and it only pushes your chest out more. you’re impossible, and it’s hard for him not to smirk at you. you’re powerless, he knows and you know it—yet you fight anyway. it’s precious.
“i don’t regret leaving. i did the right thing.” he says, head held high. his devotion is moving, even when he looks at you with such a mixed bag of emotions. “i missed you however. i accepted this union to see you again.”
you can tell from his eyes that his emotion is genuine, but it still shoots pangs through your heart as you recall days spent in bed crying over his absence. you turn your head away so the influence of his obsidian stare couldn’t cut so deep. “you left me.”
“you didn’t join me when i asked you to.” he retorts, clenching his jaw at your argumentative nature. “i came back, just for you.”
“you came back to use me.” you spit, echoing the words of your other classmates. the look in your eyes is angry, this was something you genuinely believed. that infuriates him. “you were going to leverage me, until you provoked him.”
his jaw ticks again. “and who told you this, satoru? i would have thought you knew me best.” he sighs his disappointment, grabbing your hands. he pulls you off the bed, your knees buckling you into a stand—then he roughly grabs your cheeks to make you look at him. “or did you forget just how close we were? how deeply i loved you then, all the time we spent together? you’re the one who betrayed me. you were mine! mine, you were supposed to be mine and you stayed with him!” his voice rises just a bit with his frustration, but he drops his grip on you and steps back, “i would have done anything to take you with me. and everything…could have been the same, i would have kept you safe and away from this life. We could have had so much more time together—and you’re being so goddamn bratty now that i have you back…what am i to do with you?”
you blink rapidly at his speech washes over you. did he really mean it, that he just wanted you to have you? you were never intended to be used as a bargaining chip, and you let everyone else warp the vision of the man you once held so dear? you shake your head violently, rejecting the idea. he rakes his hands over his face, fed up with the back and forth. “i’ve compartmentalized you out over the years. but i have you back, and i refuse to waste any more time.”
“i’m sorry sugurin—i thought you hated me!” you defend, reaching for him. he grabs your wrists again and plants your hands on his chest, moving his touch to your face.
“then make it up to me.” he orders with a fervent nod, his hold on your face firm but comforting. you surprise him by leaning up and closing the remaining distance to kiss him, balling up his shirt in your fists. you were absolutely insufferable, annoying, bratty, and irritating—but he could do this forever. feeling you move with such passion, vigorously pulling at him and finally giving in to all those pent up feelings was enough to prompt him to do the same. he memorizes your taste for a while before he pulls away and directs you to your knees with his signature rough handling, though he’s still careful not to hurt you. “i want you to really make it up to me.”
you nod eagerly and shove your hair over your shoulders while he frees his waiting ache. he can hardly stand the sight of you on your knees under him, massive cock creating a shadow over your obedient and eager face. as gorgeous as you are like this, it was too late to make up for your transgressions. you salivate at the sight of his impressive length standing proud over you, curved and so long he leans to one side with a thickness you know will make even your throat burn. your mouth parts for him immediately, slick sliding down the insides of your thighs at the idea of relieving his drooling slit. “you’re gonna have to open wider than that, okusan.”
and he helps you do so, planting his broad callused hands firmly on each side of your face, bumping his cockhead against your puffy bottom lip and shoving himself into your silky walls. you moan out in surprise and relax your throat, making your new husband grin at the performance. He’s perhaps unintentionally violent as he sheaths to the hilt, your nose bumping against black coarse hair above his shaft. “there, there.”
he pats your cheek patronizingly, flicking away a tear that formed. “don’t cry, kibōchi. you were made for this.” he coos affectionately, body growing hot to the touch at his vision. he knew this was a great start to teaching you your place in life, and that being a brat was not one of them. running away was not one of them, you were permanently his and he would never let you go again. he pulls your head back off with that grip to use you, plunging your throat back down on him and biting down on his lip to keep his own sounds from interrupting your gorgeous gags.
“don’t you like this so much better than acting snotty, sweet wife?” he teases only slightly, taking your teary eyes flicking up to look at him as a yes. you can feel him deep, that burning sensation that you knew would come starting to sting your vocal cords. “you take me so well, i’ve always told you sorcery wasn’t for you. this is all you need to do forever.”
you moan at the idea, him keeping you home to take after the estate and maybe even caring for the kids you may have in the future. he chortles, pleasantly surprised by you yet again. “you think you’re clever, darling. acting all sweet now so i’ll forget all about your behavior, hm?”
he pulls you off with a lewd pop, pushing at the wimpy straps of your dress with a satisfied hum as the fabric falls away from your chest. “too bad. get on the bed.”
your heart raced, but you nod. your throat was too hoarse to speak anyway. you weren’t planning anything, you felt like liquid, you had given into your vows and let suguru take you mind, body, and spirit—and he hadn’t even touched you yet. you wobble up to your feet and he slaps your ass when you turn it to him, which makes you gasp and stumble forward. he hums, predatory narrow eyes watching you climb up and lay in the center of the large mattress. he wastes no time in positioning over you. he spits, thumbing his lube over your sensitivity. he pins your fluffy dress up over your stomach, lulling you into sweet moans, your high building in your stomach rapidly. he doesn’t know where to look, you’re all too perfect. the faces you make, your beautiful, slobber-soaked mouth pouting out all your pleasures, your gorgeous tits sitting so prettily in wait for him. then there was your weeping cunt, so pathetically soaked just from sucking him off.
“su–gu-rin~” you whimper out a little, your legs trying to close around his large body mass as the feeling becomes more intense. he hums, smacking your cunt.
“brats don’t get to cum.” he shrugs, licking and biting at the insides of your thighs to tease you further. your plush skin is so sensitive, and he loves watching the way you squirm to get away from his canines scraping your flesh. you gasp in anger, orgasm ruined the longer he refuses to touch where you need him most.
“brat?—you’re really gonna be mean to me, uchi no hito?” you pout, and he can feel his heart pang at the insistence and the sweet way you call him yours. you’re softening his heart already. he still had the want to punish you, but the need to claim you was surely fighting back.
“then apologize for your behavior or you won’t cum at all.” he sits up a bit, tossing some hair over his shoulder. you bat your lashes at him, knowing he was hurt by your choice, just like you were hurt by his. but now there was a chance to make it right, to be together forever like you were meant to–and if you had to apologize for your doubts in him, you would sing them loudly.
“oh—sugurin, i’m sorry! i really am,” his fingers squeeze and toy with your clit, making your body jump as you try to stutter through your words. “just mi-missed you, that’s all, was mean because i missed y-you!” you writhe and wiggle closer and away from his touch simultaneously, and he hums happily at your speech.
“that’s better.” he hums approvingly, pushing your legs up to your chest. he wants you to feel this as much and as deeply as possible. “such a good girl, did i tell you how beautiful you look okusan?”
you nod, feeling the well of nerves heating up in your core, his hands resting on your knees as he looks over the disheveled lingerie. “told me at the wedding…” you sniffle, wiggling your hips for his attention again.
“i see.” he frowns, as if disappointed by your answer. his hands feel your thighs and trail back to your knees, getting his hands closer and closer to where you needed him most with each pass. you whine desperately, and he hums out in fake curiosity, “what is it, darling?”
“need you to touch me—please.” you squirm, giving him those irresistible doe-eyes. he planned to make you beg much harder than that, but you had him worked all the way up, your body, behavior, and the history between you was setting him on fire.
“oh i’ll make you cum, kibōchi.” he moves his grip to the backs of your thighs as he moves his hips forward. you try to prepare yourself but it’s no use, he plunges in without any hesitation or resistance on your part. it aches, you clench down at the spread and his thumb comes back to your clit to rub the pain away. “but you can only do it on my dick. got it?”
you nod slowly and his hips set a pace. he’s so deep you can barely believe he’s allowed to fuck you like this, the pain melting away to a dull pleasure, different from earlier. his gaze is still white hot and searing, devouring every inch of your body. “you really are so beautiful, sweet okusan. my kibōchi turned perfect cocksleeve, yeah?” he growls into the space between you, his fingers digging into the fat of your skin so hard you know he’ll leave his mark.
that draws a moan out of you, loving the idea of being nothing more than a wife, his partner, something you never thought you’d be once you parted ways. the feeling of him rocking into your body is addicting, and now you know you are capable of looking past anything he’s done or will do just to love him anyway. you would throw all your morals away just for this, and he knows that too. “my pretty little okusan, trying so hard to pretend she didn’t want me. now look, the prettiest you’ve ever been bouncing on me.”
he leans over your body, deepening his angle and allowing him to pick up his speed. he watches the way your tits bounce at this pace, your eyes rolling back a little as you’re rendered unable to speak again, only lewd smacks of his balls against your ass and his feral grunts to be heard. his hand finds your throat, and his mouth drops open in response to your sweet moans and impossible beauty. you are perfect. he knew you would be, but your pussy was his personal kryptonite. “you feel so good, anata girl. you look even better, stuffed to the brim.”
he smiles at the double meaning. you are his darling girl, but you are also his exasperating brat. god, he always knew what to say. your jaw falls, gripping his forearms to warn him that you were close. “please—need to cum!”
he hums, nodding his approval, “then cum, okusan.” he commands, deep voice booming. his spine tingles at the idea of you taking your first round of his seed. his hair falls so angelically around his angular features when you open your eyes, it’s the final push over the edge. you choke out a moan, and then your nails are scraping at his biceps, his shoulders and chest, whatever you can get your hands on, and your release is rushing over his dick seconds later.
“are you on birth control?” he groans, feeling his cock twitch in between your wet walls. you shake your head, chest heaving deliciously. “good, let’s see how fertile you are.”
your eyes cross at his statement and his balls feel so heavy, squeezing tight and spurting out their contents against your womb. your head digs into the pillow and his falls back at the feeling of being so full and warm. he keeps his hips rocking, making you gasp with every stroke as he shoves his deposit deeper. You’re both panting when you look at each other, years of unspoken yearning and love being communicated between you. there’s a lot to catch up on, and a lot to relearn about one another, but one thing is certain: this marriage was fated, and not arranged.
#kyleewritesjjk#kylee's kinktober event#kinktober#kinktober 2023#geto suguru x reader#jjk x reader#geto suguru#jjk geto#geto x reader#geto smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#geto suguru smut#geto x you
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“The Lord blessed the latter part of Job’s life more than the former part.” — Job 42:12
#god#jesus#christ#holy spirit#bible#scripture#bible verse of the day#bible scripture#verse of the day#scripture of the day
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[COD HEADCANONS II]
note: this is like 1/3 of what I wrote today - mainly the big once with a plot rather than quick hc’s. Any feedback about characterisations would be appreciated - been trying to get a feel for the bois personalities and so forth.
previous posts: I
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Alejandro & Rudy
Alejandro has quite a big family. Especially in the younger generation department, his siblings have “blessed” him as he calls it with a merry bunch of nephews and nieces. Tio Ale is by far the favourite uncle of la familia Vargas’ kids, with all the fun and wild stories of training in the Mexican wild or how all those different scars that Alejandro brandishes as if they are medals came to be (Of course those stories are in an appropriate format, keeping the stuff PG for little kids). He even sometimes lets them join a mellow down but nonetheless training session during his off hours at his family’s farm.
The giggles, the sound of a stampede running around and the almost visible sparks of pure excitement filling the farm’s yard are true music to Alejandro’s ears - the fact that this is possible thanks to his watchful eyes keeping the dark of Las Almas far away from his loved ones is a true confidence bust to him. Even though his relationship with his nearest has become a rocky road thanks to his involvement in Las Almas’ problems and risks associated with them.
Though it quickly becomes apparent he has competition for the title of “greatest uncle”. Rodolfo gets swarmed by the children whenever he gets invited to dinner or simply when he appears without a warning because truth be told; he was always a part of the Vargas family, even before his military service at Alejandro’s side. The fact that being the only child of his family, doesn’t necessarily render Rodolfo helpless in managing the little demonios! Quite the opposite, it sometimes seems that between Rodolfo and Alejandro, the former has much more insight into the group dynamics and control than the latter.
Apparently, it’s thanks to his habit of bringing small homemade sweets to share with the Vargas kids, a little side of churros here and there - and the end result is complete allegiance between Seargent Parra and the little ones. Alejandro’s exasperated sigh followed shortly after with “You’re teaching them how to bribe people, mi alma” comes out of him each time whenever he sees what’s happening behind his back, almost as precise as clockwork. The immediate response tends to be “And you are contributing to it by stating the term, coronel.” with a broad smile brightening Rodolfo’s features.
Sad Couch Hour
Roach tends to have problems figuring out why exactly his emotions are in a specific state; where he sporadically tends to become a husk of his usual bubbly personality. Whenever this happens, he ends up on the same couch (often referred to as his comfort couch) in the lounge room at 141 HQ, face buried against the couch with his back towards the room. In that state, he doesn’t fall into a peaceful sleep but something like a deer in the headlights state, blankly looking at the couches seams or treads coming off of it. thoughts running 100 km per hour.
The others at HQ quickly caught up to it and reacted accordingly - by making their presence known in the room. By either chatting, putting on one of Roach’s favourite shows or simply playing music from “Bluey”, their goal is to set a calming atmosphere for Roach in need. Knowing someone is around makes it easier for Roach to crawl out of the pit he got himself stuck in, later these situations get jokingly dubbed “Sad Coach Hour” by Soap and Gaz.
The surprising development of the Sad Coach Hour was to see the others end up on that same coach whenever they felt down too. Especially Ghost, overworked every once in a while ended up curled up on that flimsy thing like a cat. Whoever ends up on that coach gets immediate peppering from the others members of 141 - of course not overwhelmingly so; they would never wish to worsen the already sour mood of the coach occupant. A favourite beverage on the nearby coffee table there or covering them in a warm blanket there, it’s all about the small things. It steadily grew into an inside joke and a common practice among the members of the 141 task force.
Christmas Plushies turned Emotional Support
Once during exchanging gifts on Christmas Eve, Laswell presented the whole 141 task force (read: Price, Gaz, Ghost, Roach and Soap) with different designs of reversible plushies. One common detail between them was the similar expressions on those sides: one smiling while the other was frowning. When confronted about her motives behind these gifts her reply was simple and curt: “All of you have the skill of showing emotions like a stale cracker. These plushies are to help you with better communication with each other.”
At first, there was reluctance to use the plushies as Laswell intended, though both Roach and Gaz were the first to bend. The others were quick to respond whenever they saw the plushies being “sad-faced” which ultimately became the reason why they all use them to some degree. Some like Ghost and Roach are more prone to using them because they don’t have to physically and verbally say anything besides switching the plushy’s face. Price even though he believes himself to be enough of an adult to refrain from using his plush - he too gives into it from time to time after seriously difficult missions.
The type of plushie each one of them got:
Price - Wolf & Sheep
Ghost - Spooky Kitty
Soap - Siamese Kitty
Gaz - Turtle
Roach - Among Us Bean
GhostRoachSoap Sleeping
Roach is the designated middle in the GhostRoachSoap sandwich, whenever they manage to fit themselves into a cot.
Ghost on the other hand prefers to have his back against a solid wall - he feels more secure knowing the danger doesn’t have an advantage on him for sneaking, plus the extra credit of having his eyes on the room. Makes his mind go at ease much easier than with his back turned against open space.
Soap designated place ends up being back towards the door because of his need to be the one to confront whatever “the danger” may be (this has a great connection to his self-sacrificing tendencies). He wishes to keep both Ghost and Roach from danger as long as he can - doesn’t share this with them directly though. His excuse for keeping himself in that spot is his apparently small bladder and the frequent toilet trips he makes during the night. Soap ultimately doesn’t wish to crawl his way through the bed and irritate them both with his constant walking out of the bed.
Ghost and Soap happen to switch from time to time, especially after hard operations - where Ghost needs to know that John feels extra protected for once during his sleep.
Another sleeping position they favour, especially Soap and Roach is having Ghost become their pillow (that man has giant tits under all that gear) while he holds them close to his side.
#call of duty headcanons#cod headcanons#caligo's headcanons#aledolfo#ghostroachsoap#task force 141#ghostsoap#roachsoap#ghostroach#alejandro vargas#rodolfo parra#gary roach sanderson#gary sanderson#john soap mactavish#john mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#simon ghost riley#simon riley#kate laswell#captain price#john price#call of duty#call of duty mw2#call of duty mwii#this was a real bitch to format oml 😂😭#I’m contemplating doing tag lists for anyone interested in getting notifs whenever I post hcs/writing
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On a related but positive note,here's the reasons why Percy Jackson is autistic
The og troubled but good kid,an inherently autistic archetype-Speaking as a former irl one
Sucks at school but is super smart in pretty much every other area
Smelly Gabe delibaretly targeted his insecurities over his intellegence,as did his bullies and the latters also drilled it into his head that he's a 'weirdo who'll never fit in'
This has happened to him long and often enough for him to have it worse than almost any other demigod when it comes to self-eestem,not helped by Poseidon's abandonment that he's never actually made up for
Mama's boy.Not a definitive but autistic boys tend to be closer to their mom's than to their dad's,both irl and in fiction
His teachers refused to believe his good intentions despite how little he was
Sally dosen't quite understand how he works completely but never puts him down for being different and in fact considers him being different to be a blessing to both of them
Always insists on eating the same type of food(blue)
Dosen't even try to understand social norms because he thinks they're stupid as fuck
His sense of humor is the definition of autism
A brand of kindness that gets allistics big mad and calling it 'unrealistic/childish/etc'-Both certain other characters AND the gross people in the fandom
Jumbled up opinions on morality that obviously cause him distress because he wants things to be black and white(he has enough struggles to begin with)
Canon Resting Bitch Face
No manners but not on purpose,that's just how he talks
Hates tight and revealing clothes so he wears baggy ones
Dated Rachel,who's also autistic,and said he liked her because she made him feel normal and was direct and honest so he didn't have to walk on eggshells around her
Just lets people call him stupid and undermine his countless accomplishments despite how mentally strong he is because he thinks they're right
Was Tyson's defender(Tyson is coded as having at least one intellectual disability,iirc i believe i saw someone say it's Down Syndrome specifically)
Complex relathionship with gender due to canonically being intended as a cis male but most coming off as some type of transfem who's also super femme than anything else
Dislikes 'truly mature' media and behaviors so he has kiddy interests and acts goofy and is very chaotic instead
An actual punk instead of just EdgyTM
Can never tell when someone has a crush on him but when he likes someone back,he's unintentional rizz city
More of a playoff from everything else but he gets along so well with younger people to the point where not only is he Nico and Hazel's best friend but also their eldest sibling figure and pseudo-dad.Adding on that last part because he's been a better parent to them than Hades/Pluto's ever been
#percy jackson#perseo jackson#persephone jackson#autistic percy jackson#black percy#latino percy#trans(fem)percy jackson#bigender percy jackson#punk!percy#or#pastel punk percy jackson#depending on my mood#team parent percy jackson#poseidon(derogatory)#sally jackson#rachel elizabeth dare#autistic rachel dare#nigerian rachel dare#perachel#t4t perachel#tyson pjo#nico di angelo#hazel levesque#group:it's in my nature to love you#perlex#pjo#autistic girl summer#good times#summercore#summerposting
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EMBRACING TRANSITION
"The Lord blessed the latter part of Job's life more than the former part. He had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, a thousand yoke of oxen and a thousand donkeys." - Job 42:12 NIV
From time to time we actually have to come out of one undertaking completely before God can transition us to the next assignment in our Christ calling. Something that is closing in our lives can make us feel like we are out of control, going to shipwreck, or worse yet, never able to rebound.
Sometimes our calendars, schedules, and plans just don't line up with where God wants to take us anymore, so He decides to change our course.
"Guide me in Your truth and teach me, for You are God my Savior, and my hope is in You all day long." - Psalm 25:5 NIV
God knows what you are about to walk through and He has already prepared for it. – everything you need to carry out His purpose for your life is already present – there is nothing missing and nothing broken. Don't be afraid to share how you really feel with Him. He wants to hear what you have to say about it. At first, it can feel breathtaking and even fearful, but God is there. He is in the heights, the depths, and the small steps of faith you are about to take.
STEPPING OUT OF THE BOAT
Some of the steps ahead will be like walking on water. Unfortunately, we don't get to pick the visibility of the water or the depth of the ocean that the Lord asks us to step out on.
"Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence?" - Psalm 139:7 NIV
Rest assured that God never closes a door unless He intends on opening something else for you. Remember, “all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)
"Kings will be your foster fathers, and their queens your nursing mothers. They will bow down before you with their faces to the ground; they will lick the dust at your feet. Then you will know that I am the Lord; those who hope in Me will not be disappointed" (Isaiah 49:23 NIV).
ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY
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C1 || The Legend of a Creator
✗ Previous Chapter || ↻ Next Chapter || ✦ MASTERLIST || ♪ PLAYLIST || ! PRELUDE/DISCLAIMER
『 "Let there be light." 』
...and light was.
THE DIVINE ONE dreams of nothingness.
A cluster of radiance rises from the east while a cluster of luminosity gathers on the west, painting an eternal twilight. Fragments—likened to the former yet complementing the latter—scatter across the sky to bequeath the morning grace and illuminate the evening gaze. Time has yet to flow yet life already breathes, unconquered by any unit of measure at the face of divinity. A bewitching alto flirts with a gallant bass, while the tenors of pandemonium courted the harmonizing soprano.
The choir sang together as They descend unto the water's surface, causing ripples.
One final note sustains, and it too fades.
『 I, begin carving the land and mountains 』
THE ASTRAL GODDESS has no tangible form, yet resembles a humanoid figure.
A mere will projected through a lucid dream, She moves according to the whims of her childish heart and pensive mind. From specters of light, desires beckon life into various shapes of existence. Her hands spread out and rise like a conductor about to begin an orchestral performance. The world stills obediently, and incandescent eyes flutter close with a deep inhale. A flick of the wrists turns Her palms up, and Her eyes snap open with a sharp exhale.
Just like that, the world moves again.
"Do you want a naptime story?"
"Yes, please!"
The divine conductor motions for an uprising and, by Her holy command, stone henges answer from sand like marble columns yet to be sculpted. Many sets of jagged rocks line up in random patterns to form dangerous cliffs. Landmasses took shape amongst barren dunes, blessing it with somewhat dry yet nonetheless fertile soil. Unrefined pillars were sharpened as mountains. A few sets of them softened to be hills and valleys, making way for something that is yet to come. Countless more transfigured into canyons and plateaus, occupying the shores of a desolate world where She walked with pride. Soft touches grazed the dancing grains, as Her feet dig into its cushioning surface.
As the beat and tempo changed by motions of the conductor, so did the land that transformed candidly according to the movements of Its creator.
How dull. She mused.
Thus, provoked by Her word, rain begins to fall.
The limitless blue sky gave parts of itself, dividing this unconquerable ocean into two.
『 Then, forge the cauldrons— 』
The Astral Goddess pauses.
Her hands gracefully lower to a forward push, tilting as if to scale. Clenched into fists, they cross over each other and pull back to chastely kiss the skin of delicate shoulders. It is a position reminiscent of a pharaoh about to be laid in their sarcophagus for the final departure. Alas, this goddess in human form is far from done with Her masterpiece.
Rather than halting like previously, the world seems to rumble in anticipation.
With a much softer and longer exhale, Her eyes narrow in glinting passion. Then, tight fists snap to their respective sides as if pulling a rope taut. They release only for the right to rise while the left lowers, dual cues assigned simultaneously. The movement is careful and deliberate yet holds a paradoxical flamboyance, much like the dance of a gypsy.
By Her will, the landmasses conformed.
"We're here, Sol. You're safe."
"Nothing will ever harm you, little sis."
The ground cracked open as sand falls to trenches that show burning hot lava. Distance is so far apart from the peak to the depths, showing only a line of vermillion left aglow. The rumbling turned into raging quakes, and soon, an eruption is nearly afoot. The magma was boiling, liquid fire beginning to run wild like turbulent rapids. This heat seeps into growing fissures, succumbing to the pressure which beckons forth and above.
Wrists bent and arms flailed to every other direction, persuading the elements to submit.
The Astral Goddess shapes the gaps between the landmasses. Her fingertips twitched like a master puppeteer at work. One hand rose to point to the sky, two fingers left to stand. It spun around to resemble an impromptu magic wand, before finally striking down and forward as if an order to charge.
What once was a drizzle turned heavier. A downpour precipitation of the sky's tears.
How lively. She mused.
Thus, encouraged by Her word, the sky poured until it could cry no more.
『 —that hold the oceans 』
The fiery depths are fed with raindrops, cooling the lava at the bottom. Steam erupts from the clash of heat and cold. The vermillion shades of liquid flame become black tar, until everything solidifies into an igneous rock surface. Throughout the process, the sands still run down as if within an hourglass and it fills the gap of the chasms alongside the rain.
The world begins to flood, and only the highest peaks serve to remain as landforms.
Tectonic plates now connect through seas and their shorelines. Waves sway and dance to drag against the rocks by the cliffs, heavy pebbles lining along the sandy coves. Continents remain afloat amongst the oceans, mountains standing tall as they relish the rainfall. Water feeds the soil which soon grows life that paints the landmasses green and brown. Flat muddy ground transformed into luscious plains, as orchards bore fruit and gardens sprung flowers.
Everything flourished while nurtured by Her caring touch and thoughtful guidance.
Amongst the sands, there is an oasis. Amongst the forestry, there is a meadow. Amongst the coves, there is a coastline.
Alas, there had been too much tears.
"Did you make new friends?"
"Be careful! Don't let them peck you."
The Astral Goddess concluded everything to be too scattered with neither grace nor finesse. By ruling of Her summoned scepter, She calls forth the might of both skies and seas. The holy staff spins to put the currents in motion, whirlpools abound and typhoons stirred by winds. The mountains brace against the calm before the storm. A discreet tremble vibrated against the soles of Her feet, yet She only smiled in doting reassurance.
How brave. She mused.
Thus, empowered by Her word, the storm brewed.
The lands, the seas, and the skies converge to make the world. By will of Her Eminence, this planet shall be reformed.
Therefore, spring passes so this complacent realm can experience the wonders of summer.
Alas, it is not the heatwave that awaits.
『 I project a storm 』
The Astral Goddess swiftly brings the scepter down as an unspoken command.
Lightning strikes and thunder closely follows in a raging uproar. The oceans sing louder like a choir of alluring merfolk and sirens. Scorchmarks imprint on countless areas, signatures of the mighty lightning's glow. The continents shake at the loud snarls of thunder, accompanied by untamed waves.
Then, autumn and winter arrive.
"Maybe we can visit again someday!"
"Maybe."
Viridescence is met with the passing of seasons, as what once bloomed have now dried and wilted. The ones that linger to brave the frost are encased in numbing ice. Morning dew halts upon its trail, and morphs as icicles by the breath of bitter cold. Mist and fog slither across the lands similarly to a corpse bride's ghastly veil. The steam becomes vapor which condenses from the compacting cold.
Then, the hailstorm began to descend.
Every drop of sleet hit with precision and accuracy, acting as the pottery wheel to Her Eminence while the land as Her clay. Everything bent and broke before being remade anew. The cycle repeats over and over again. When the sky ran out of clouds, pressure gathered below so a volcano can erupt and produce more vapor against the waters.
How dreary. She mused.
Thus, emboldened by Her word, the skies provided a more ruthless aid and called the winds.
『 A whirlwind of gales and torrents 』
The Astral Goddess danced blissfully.
Her tiptoes touched the torrential waters, rippling as whirlpools while executing one jeté to another. When She lands on a mountain peak or cliff edge, a playful fouetté is demonstrated. Being a supportive partner, the gales blow to help Her glide and flutter whenever a plateau is much too far. The currents direct a song to the rest of the elements that performed alongside their prima ballerina, reminiscent of the fairies with their sugar plum princess. Typhoons and hurricanes come together, either to destroy or to recreate.
1, 2, 3...
•
1, 2, 3...
•
1, 2, 3...
The hailstorm gains direction through the whirls of violence, yet calms by opposing breezes. The rays of lightning enlighten the gloom. The magma burns in embers which transition into an inferno beyond the ashclouds. Waves rise to heights that appear as monsters from the depths comparable to a kraken or a leviathan. It is the calamity before the dawn of creation, an enactment of genesis. It is a mass catastrophe of poetic irony in dramatic proportions.
This is chaotic anarchy before the unifying order...
...and it was magnificent.
『 Give TEYVAT its form 』
In Cosmogenesis, the realm is emptied.
Therefore, nobody was present to witness as its gateway displays a planet being born from a galaxy far away. The gaping maw vibrantly shines in a flurry of starlight and cosmic dust. It then beholds a world, so meek and so young, without even a solar system that kept it afloat. This celestial body is sustaining itself by the powers which lie within its epicenter. If anything, a new system was being born alongside it—perhaps even originating from it.
"What do you wish to see next, Sol?"
"Everything~!"
It began as a mere orb of light, changing colors like an indecisive child.
Then, a projection of divinity and mystique shoots out with radiant wings. The silhouette of imperial brilliance possesses a feminine bodice. Her luscious locks of hair waved like an ebony veil of the starry nightsky. This is a stark contrast to everything else about Her stature which sparkled. The planet in Her altruistic grasp is sculpted according to an old montage of memories and dreams. It transforms from a round beacon into a sphere that pulses with renewed vigor.
How precious. She mused.
Thus, enriched by Her word, creation begins to take its first breath and first beat. Upon Her palms, a gem brilliantly gleams amidst the starry void.
TEYVAT shath be thy name.
『 A cosmic array so vibrant 』
The Astral Goddess smiled triumphantly.
Her mystical figure begins to fade as She holds this new fragile jewel in hand. A young celestial body, It is the first of all Her creations that have yet to come and be born. Its sheer potential awaits discovery and refinement, both of which will someday be unraveled to a grand fruition. All it would take is patience with a touch of passion and determination.
"Little Traveler, wherefore art thou?"
Then, She returns from whence They came.
As if the universe welcomes Its existence, a galaxy surrounds It. Clouds of stardust kiss It in welcome, and vibrant gas of colors danced in celebration. The other stars twinkled in greeting from afar while Its sun and moon beamed at each other.
Long may It thrive in the cosmos.
『 Born, emerging from heat and flames 』
PRIMO STELLA pulses to the beat of The Divine One's heart, steady yet profound.
Alas, the heat continues to be repressed. It seethes like a fury that refuses to simmer down, yet also not quite willing to lash out. From the hearth of embers procured by the planet-star, pieces were shed like glass fragments. They revolve around the radiant core, glinting as ethereal light reflected upon each surface. White flames burn amongst the blues, searing as the shards took shape—all of them were spherical yet imperfect.
Each of these spheres were fed by the Primo Stella's gracious light. They shine like beacons, glimmer like diamonds. Resembling the art of blowing glass, every one is a masterpiece born from the heat and flames of a planet-star.
Then, in a blink, they all dispersed.
Amongst the magma of Teyvat's crust, the children of the earth and sky had risen.
A solar chariot brought forth heat and life which burned unlike any fire. It was an unmatched lord of daylight, piloted by stars which go unseen. Behind the wheels, ivory smoke take the form of clouds amidst the freshly painted sky. To provide life upon the land, Teyvat eludes the dreamy gaze of the starry void by donning this azure mask.
Following is the silver carriage that carried three: the ruling ladies of the night. The moons held different shapes, brimming with uneven luminosity—labelled as the quarter, the gibbous, and the crescent. Rule of sovereignty over the nightsky switches thrice before completing the lunar month with a full moon. In the world of Teyvat, there was no such thing as a moon coated in complete darkness...for the night must remain illuminated.
Thus, the overlords of heaven above reigned as the keepers of time.
Nevertheless, they are all mere husks wherein lies the holy grails of divine light. For the sacrament of wishes have yet to begin, all laid still upon the unreachable until sentience be giveth unto thee.
『 Withstand waves of destruction 』
The Astral Goddess takes a theatrical bow.
The world croons as if in applause, elements uniting to engulf Her within an encompassing embrace. It was strangely warming despite the chill. The winds surrounded Her in a gentle whirlwind. The seas spun along the same direction, as if to safeguard Her in a whirlpool barrier. A pillar rises from below, elevating Her to new heights. Magma and flame burst from the column, interjecting the intimate pas de deux between maelstrom and monsoon. Vines crawled and clung to petite limbs as well as long locks of wavy hair, blooming as decorative accessories. The sky is lit by the lightning's glow as frost and snow is condensed by the stratosphere. Her divine silhouette concludes the curtain call with a final fouette, and then followed by a flawless arabesque.
"Goodnight, my sweet little one."
Then, She disperses in fluttering curtains of aurora borealis. Some spiral as the rays spread across the ebony blanket, and a few fading into gray clouds of the night. Immaculate wisps playfully twinkle upon the capes, blending with the farther stars of Outer Space. These mischievous wisps hid in plain sight whenever the chariot rode, but remain constant as the cycles of the moon.
Meanwhile, the coalescence of elements found their respective places in Teyvat. It reached a pinnacle of clarity to never forget this momentous birth. The dawn of creation is something that will be engraved unto every lifeform which shall exist onwards.
From the sands, gigantic sets of pillars grew and were shaped into mountains. Some became valley and others softened into lower hills, all bearing the geometric lines of golden geo. Rain fell to water the dry dunes, bestowing oasis with the noble mark of hydro. Barren soil is then enveloped with greenery and life, showering the lands in wise dendro. Only then, the storm arrived as the pavane for the eternal electro. Sleet and hail were delivered by violent whirlwinds, accompanied by the torrential oceans in a collaboration of anemo and cryo. Then, beneath it all, flames burst forth with eruptions of ashes and magma as the proud regards of pyro.
Teyvat persevered as a meager kimberlite in pursuit of an ambition to become a diamond.
『 Unaltered in Heaven's wake 』
THE DIVINE ONE remained in darkness, having lost track of how long They spent in solitude.
Only memories kept madness at bay, taking a vague semblance of dreams. It filled Their heart with many wishes, a searing desire to live. Melodic blues are soothed by the calling of an abyss where stars and planets gleam amongst nothingness. A spectrum of twilight cloaked the dimension as a theatrical replica of a legitimate landscape. Alas, it lacked the will and quintessence of a true purpose.
Perhaps, with time, those will come too—
"We love you, little sister."
—and perhaps, that time amounts to ten years.
Unbeknownst to She Who Sleeps, the cradle burns with new life. The first star expands around Them, shifting into another form by the demands of She Who Awakened. The memories of one provides the guidance which enables the other to create. They waited in purgatory while months blend together as if they were mere hours.
From the light of a cosmogenic star, a planet has finally reached completion.
It is a surge of nostalgia, the explosion of heat and flames with sparkling stardust. Two delicate hands welcome the orb of life, shaping and painting it like a porcelain vase. A once in a lifetime phenomenon has imprinted itself unto the universe, taking root in order to thrive.
『 Time and space 』
SOLSTICE holds no clear recollection of the past ten years she had spent asleep.
Instead, she dreams of a vague memory when she was so little. Her body felt feverish and sore, overall uncomfortable. This greatly worried the twins as they thought she was not taking their travels well, perhaps due to her age. Lumine held her close while Aether activated the gateway of Cosmogenesis to summon an omnipotent presence. It was the first Outlander, the great Ancient amongst the Elders.
Elder Odin was his name.
His voice sounds as old and wise as his reputation has preceded. Nevertheless, the authority behind it stood strong and proud. It demanded respect yet chivalrously welcomed those who seek counsel.
"Your sister," he said, "holds unique powers like the few that came before her. It is something that slightly differs even amongst Outlanders."
Aether frowned, "You mean the fact she was born from a nebula rather than from a star?"
Odin grunted affirmatively, "Yes. This is just a phase and it shall pass soon. The fever is merely her body transitioning to accept that power little by little."
Lumine bit her lip anxiously before adjusting her hold on their youngest sibling.
"Is there any way to prevent these fevers from getting too bad?" She asked.
The Elder chuckled warmly, "It will likely be a rare event after this so fret not. As long as you keep her star—the Primo Stella, as I recall—sealed and near her, everything shall be good until her 16th year."
"What if the seal breaks prematurely?"
The Lord Elder is quiet for a while, creating a mild tension that made the twins shiver.
"Nothing good, I would assume." Odin answered.
He sighs, "It brings me great sorrow to tell. All other Nebula Outlanders have been lost, and so too their older siblings. We assume that they have all chosen mortality to permanently lose their potential, to not risk its unpredictable awakening. In solidarity, their siblings have likely joined them. Unfortunately, the price of such choice is the severance of their bonds to Cosmogenesis. Therefore, we hold no further records of them to speak as example."
The twins listen attentively, swallowing a small hitch of anxiety in their throats.
"Only one particular instance," the Elder continues, "was a seal prematurely lifted. They too—the Nebula Outlander involved and their sibling—have vanished from the watch of Cosmogenesis, as if having either perished or detached like the rest."
Aether and Lumine stared in astonishment. They simultaneously look at their sickly sister, hearts clenching at her heaving breaths.
"Alas," the Elder interjected, "you could be different."
"How so?" Aether asked eagerly.
"Not only is your sister a rare existence, but so are both of you—twin Outlanders and their younger sibling. There is a reason why Luciel brought forth more than one miracle."
Lumine tilted her head, "I don't understand."
"Someday, you will. Destiny finds a way."
The memory fades into soot, like a picture burning away to the greedy touch of fire.
From that same touch, she felt herself float. As a drowning sailor would perceive the surface, a light ripples just beyond her grasp. Her hand reaches up and the waves helped her get closer rather than weigh her down. The starry dreamscape was left in the abyss where the void previously cradled her.
It is a rebirth that she now can remember.
No supernova exploded from the depths of oblivion, but the sensation is strikingly similar. Unfathomable forces compressed within her being, impatiently trying to break free. It was a knot, tightening and tightening, until the rope finally broke.
『 Born, emerging from heat and flames 』
The Divine One can feel wings spread from Their shoulder blades, resembling satin ribbons made of fluorescent lights. A tattoo embeds unto the skin of Their back, tracking down the entire spine. Amidst the void where time serves no merit, They begin to transcend a plane of existence to divinity. A decade of slumber paves the path for spiritual resonance between Primo Stella and the child of Luciella.
Now, it is time to awaken as a whole.
The day has come to leave the void of dreams. The present beckons Her to listen. Much like Her birth in cosmogony, She is reborn through heat and flames of the star she bore.
"What are you wishing for, sis?"
"Anything."
Let thy fair lullabies of yestereve be replaced by thy mellifluous hymns of morrow.
Thus, from the shadows, She is revived.
『 Tempered by violent rays 』
Teyvat rejoices for The Creator.
A magical surge spreads across the sands, the seas, and the skies. No stone was spared, nay even a drop of innocent dew. Everything and everyone felt Their Eminence rise to the surface, henceforth all shall bow in humble delight. Elemental essence took form in sentient globes, a species of monsters living as condensed energies of the planet. Diamond ores sprouted wings to flutter across the continents, and flora bloomed amidst the saturated energies that lingered from the cosmic wave. The power that ran through the veins within this celestial body had bestowed animated existence, similar to an angel's breath. These ties that bind function as unspoken links to The All-Creator, as if weaving strings of fate by demon's blood.
To those whom bore witness, no words could attest their euphoria. The All-Creator was a sight unlike any other, a Grecian marble statue embellished with white gold and draped in silk.
Wings unfold, She grants divine light to all that witnessed the awakening. The seven elements had converged in a wild fugue which ironically tempered the celestial energy. Her Eminence descends to a bed of flowers where glowing eyes closed, not to rest but to regain cognizance of oneself. The holy wings dispersed into feathers of light, a thousand wisps vanishing as fleeting dreams.
From afar, a giant wolfdog watches shrewdly.
Heterochromatic eyes of sapphire blue and emerald green glower at the resplendent light. A furcoat of auburn brown swayed alongside the gales, mocking the novelty of pottery clay. Unlike his realm brothers, his purpose is not to guide but to observe. In turn, his territory is far more accommodating and leaves the planet plenty of means to communicate. If truly necessary, his presence can simply be an extension of disciplinary aid. When that is no longer required, he can fade back to the dull peace of nonexistence.
Thus, as The Creator was delivered upon the land, the colossal wolfdog sprints.
It is time to uphold his duty.
Then, Solstice snaps her eyes wide open.
『 Come, come see her withstand 』
It was an overall surreal experience.
Solstice barely registers anything around her as she woke up to this new world. There is a passing of soft murmurs that buzzed in her ears. It sounded as if something was cooing at her. Her sight is still mildly blurry, a case of drowsiness lingering which her eyes try to blink back. Some of her limbs feel numb yet she exerts the effort to regain a sense of feeling, at least enough to move. Nose twitching, she follows the scent of freshwater and the sound of steady running streams. She crawls her way through the blades of grass that oddly seem to part as she went.
Alas, with her muddled mind, the young lady failed to notice such peculiarities.
As soon as her hand touched water, Solstice did not waste a second to wash her face. Once she gained clarity, she hydrated herself after making sure it was clean enough for consumption. A breath of relief escaped past her lips, eyes closed in comfort. Rays of sunshine warmed her skin, bathing every pore with morning grace. Though her locks were tangled, they gave a lustrous gleam as drops of water touch the wavy strands.
The current location is filled with greenery yet not as imposing as a forest and jungle would feel. Walls of stone unevenly surrounded her from the eastside, judging by the sun's rise, curving around as cliffs of medium height. The plateaus smelled like flowers, and petals rained to decorate the unseen gentle breeze with an array of colors. Grass encompassed the ground in varying shades of green and cleared areas were coated in rich bronze soil. A number of flat stones are spread and scattered like unfinished pathways, accompanying a small orchard that range from thin bamboo trees to tall oaks. At the wayside, there is a river leading to a lake and waterfall at the heart of the curvature.
"Where am I?" Solstice wondered.
Immediately, she was struck with a bout of anxiety despite the wonderful landscape. This moment of unease displayed her inexperience in the wild. She tries to remember everything else that had plausibly happened which led to this predicament. Her mind was coming up with blanks, and she really wants her siblings to just be here.
That is it.
Her siblings...
As she always did, her first instinct was to call out for the two people that grounded her to security.
"Atti..? Mimin...?"
The lonely Outlander pauses in shock, touching her throat swiftly. Was that her voice? Why did it sound so unfamiliar, as if belonging to an adolescent?
At that realization, Solstice finally paid attention to the changes in her body. Looking down, her hands turned this way and that while flexing her fingers in demonstration. They were longer and more slender, reminding her of Lumine's hands yet less calloused—a stark reminder of inexperienced youth. She also notices that her hair was longer than how she last left it, likely reaching her knees if she stood up. At the moment, the wavy strands only trailed on the ground where she sat. Her eyes trailed towards her torso as her breath hitched upon finding the source of heaviness—a grown chest.
"Am I in Mimin's body?!" She exclaimed.
The astonishing conclusion made her crawl back towards the lake. Instead of seeing her older sister's reflection, a young adult version of herself stared back with hysterical confusion. As the water showed her the truth, fear ensnared her heart.
Solstice screamed, recoiling in horror.
Her chest heaved as she hyperventilated, panic coursing through her veins. Goosebumps slithered on the surface of unblemished skin.
"Calm down."
Aether's voice echoed from her memories.
"Calm down. Take deep breaths, Sol."
Solstice closes her eyes in an attempt to focus. She grasped onto the memory of her brother amidst a stormy night. It was the first time she experienced thunder and lightning in one of their travels. Lumine was out for a week-long commission, leaving Aether to care for their little sister. She can recall his warm embrace and the way he drowsily rocked her while sitting on the bed.
Then, he began to hum their old lullaby.
In unison with the distant memory, the young lady began to sing the verses under her breath. The mere sound was too achingly strange to be as real of a comfort as it ounce felt. It cracked here and there due to lack of use. Otherwise, it shook uncertainly like a lost child's weeping for a guardian to guide them back home. However, as the lullaby came to a close, a very miniscule hint of acceptance registered within the young woman.
This is her voice now.
Solstice hesitantly went back to the water, checking her reflection again. Her slender fingers pulled on her cheeks, pinching the skin and turning it rosy after letting go. She swept back her long fringes and leaned forward, squinting at the fine lady staring back at her skeptically.
"Is this...me?" She questioned.
A gasp escaped her lips as if hearing herself for the first time all over again, but calmer. She definitely sounded more mature and less pitchy, resembling Lumine yet much softer. Her eyes dampened a bit, slightly overwhelmed by these abrupt changes. It was partially due to hormones suddenly spiking as she has just recently awakened to this older body, sending it to a gradual overdrive.
Solstice shook her head firmly, determined to stay composed and on track.
"That's right, baby sis! You can do it."
Lumine's voice echoed in her mind this time, a sign of encouragement to push forward. It had always been that way. While her older brother protects and keeps them grounded, her older sister enables them to pursue things out of their comfort zones. It is also how the twins worked even before their little sister was born.
Aether pulls back and defends.
Lumine pushes forth and attacks.
Solstice is the anchor, their balance, and a pillar of support that provides rest.
"Now, let's keep moving!"
There is always time and method to adapt.
First is traverse. Never stay in one place for longer than necessary if she wants to make progress. It is always advisable to scout for safe routes that will lead to anything of value. The priority in this step is to seek an acceptable camp or shelter before night strikes, a time where predators are prowling.
Second is observe. Always know one's limits and never engage anything unless beyond certain it is not a threat. If required, only take a risk when there are no other options for survival. Trust is earned both ways when addressing strangers.
Third is forage and scavenge. Once a settlement has been decided, search for resources and provisions for tonight. If possible, gather as much supply that will last until tomorrow so full health is guaranteed for further travels. Being near a freshwater source such as rivers and lakes is always ideal.
Finally, repeat all three steps. In some cases, hunting is part of step two. However, as mentioned, it is vital to always assess the target before engaging. In such situations wherein confrontation is not an available option, use step three as a way to gather materials for entrapment.
With that in mind, the wayward sister regains the confidence to carry onward.
『 Waves of destruction— 』
Solstice wasted no time after regaining composure, running off to find her siblings.
It was a strange venture into the unknown that oddly felt familiar as well. Everything was so new to her yet a nagging part in her mind found this world to be nostalgic at the same time. Her current attire is not quite appropriate for a trek in the wilderness, let alone a hike in the mountains. Furthermore, this is the first time she is left alone to fend for herself in the wild. In the rare instances neither Aether nor Lumine could stay with her for a day, there would be an appointed guardian to babysit her—the rare close friends her siblings allowed themselves to trust and have. If they were in a world lacking a populace, she was given every resource she would need in their temporary shelter.
Now, the little traveler only has her wits to use every single thing her siblings had taught.
"I can do this," she nodded nervously to herself, "I'm an Outlander too! I can figure out a way to survive on my own...at least, until Atti and Mimin come back."
A pessimistic thought strays into her mind, placing doubts within her subconscious.
What if...her siblings do not come for her?
Solstice shook her head firmly to dissuade herself from believing such negativity. It may take a long time but the twins will come for her. They always will because they promised. Aether and Lumine never break their word once they have given it, especially to their little sister. Her faith in them is stronger than anything in the universe, rivaled only by their love for each other. Right now, she just has to endure and wait patiently until they arrive. Besides, she can never forget the basic skillset routine she has been taught to master since she could walk and talk.
The young Outlander did not know how long she ran but it was enough to start feeling hunger and slight fatigue. Keen eyes observe their surroundings yet detect nothing but trees. She has delved deeper into the forest, and she can hear running water becoming clearer to her ears. It is not the harsh impact of a waterfall from whence she came, but more like the softer flow of cold streams. That was her cue to make a beeline towards the sound.
Hopefully, there will be some fish she can catch or fruit trees she can climb to harvest. This body still moves a little clumsily due to the new height and weight added to her formerly small size. It does not help that she is currently barefoot and clothed only in a flowy dress. Nonetheless, she feels far from dejected about her circumstance. If anything, she is starting to reawaken her sense of adventure with excitement and anticipation.
Solstice pulled and cut a few strings of vines to tie up her hair. Then, she searched for a stick and stone she can sharpen into a spear. Her soft palms are likely going to get blistered by the end of the day, but a part of her relishes the possibility. It will be like an achievement for her age of independence.
"I'm coming for you, fishies!" Solstice exclaims.
The process was rambunctiously done yet she did not forget to pay respects in her mind. After all, she was reaping life in order to serve her own. Even for the littlest fish or the mightiest of boars, the twins raised her to respect each one.
Thus, she prayed.
"May thou spirit forever swim amongst purest waters, as thou body serve to sustain thy life of mine."
The young wanderer managed to catch at least one fish large enough to keep her full for tonight. A lot of berry shrubs were found by the riverbank, ripe and juicy for the taking. They function as good garnishes and tasty desserts. A campfire kept her warm and she was satisfied despite the splinters the firewood gave her. By the time she was all tuckered out, the moons reached the apex and her eyes eventually drifted shut in sweet dreams.
Unfortunately, the campfire fizzled out in the middle of the night. It was haphazardly made in the first place so it was to be expected.
Solstice shivered as her body instinctively curled up to a tighter ball. Unbeknownst to her, a few vines crawled to gather up more logs and arrange it on the campfire spot. A lone pyro crystalfly flutters ever so gracefully and lands on the lumber. It glows before releasing a small fiery burst, flickering away once the embers began to burn. The tree branch of the willow that provided shade for the sleeping beauty bent down like an extended limb. It stretched over the fire to feed it by shaking off a few leaves, and then returned to its prior position. The flame spread to devour the entirety of the logs, burning brighter in gratitude. The evening breeze warmed just as it blew from the seashores.
Teyvat wishes Its maker goodnight.
Solstice knew she was being watched.
If she had been sound of mind since the beginning, she would have noticed sooner. Alas, she needed time alone to regain her bearings. The moment she did, a piercing shiver went down her spine. It was neither hostile nor dangerous, just very meticulous and shrewd. This watchful warden followed her at all times, no matter where she went. Although, it seems to respect her privacy by theoretically looking away whenever she needs to relieve herself.
"Show yourself." She demanded.
Nothing happened.
Huffing irately, she tried for a different approach—a mannerly one.
"Please reveal yourself." She amends.
For a moment, nothing happened and she thinks it did not work.
However, there was the faint sound of rustling grass as the being took steps towards her. The pads of a paw swiftly passes, and then in a blink, a creature emerges. Whatever it was, the thing appears to be a huge quadrupedal animal. A single paw—almost the size of two human heads—steps out of the shadows, revealing dark brown fur that shines in bronze under the moonlit night. Thick black claws with sharp tips of white elongated to dig into the dirt. A mismatched pair of blue and green irises with slit pupils glares back at her, stern yet not unkind. It seems to emit flamelike tails at the end of its lashes, similar to the spirits of nature that guard the realm.
Apparently, that was all it planned to show of itself.
The second Solstice blinked, the eyes vanished—
—yet she still felt them watching.
『 —unaltered in Heaven's wake 』
It took a few weeks for her to learn.
Solstice was willing to admit that she grew up a little spoiled by her siblings. The twins denied her almost nothing and did all they can for her sake. It was not farfetched to say that she was sheltered in that sense, despite traveling to countless worlds. She was still disciplined when necessary, but being naturally optimistic yet mild-mannered helped avoid any scolding. Granted, she did not have the typical childhood that allowed her stability and friends—which likely played a part to her occasionally taciturn behavior. However, for the most part, she had everything she could need and want in life.
Aether and Lumine did their best to raise her well, which honestly was enough for Solstice.
Now, she has to educate herself how to survive alone and get the hang of things.
Being adventurous, Solstice sincerely did not mind this new arrangement. Of course, she struggled a lot with this sudden independence; but like always, her curiosity for the world made it all worthwhile. She did pay attention to how Aether lit their campfires, and how Lumine set up a temporary shelter. She watched attentively from afar whenever they set up traps or hunted, how they create fishing rods out of sticks and vines. All Outlanders were built to gather information like that for survival.
Honestly, what bothered her the most was her own body and its abrupt transition.
Outlanders technically do not have birthdays. They are all born in cosmogony, the center of eternity where time is an absent construct. There was no way to tell apart the days, weeks, months, and years from each other. Nonetheless, every one of them can feel a change in their bodies every technical year they turn older; and by hopping to their first world just as this subtle transition occurs, they can figure out their supposed birthday through that world's calendar cycle. These rites of passage will only stop on their 16th year, the pinnacle of maturity for all cosmic Outlanders. The Elders had told them that an Outlander will be capable of aging past that boundary at varying circumstances and in different rates of speed. Some could do it upon reaching their hundredth, thousandth, or even millionth world; and others only attain such ability after finding their true home. The oldest physical age that Outlanders have gotten so far—without giving up their immortality, of course—is 35-years-old, which applies to most of the Elders excluding Odin. It is said that Odin's physical form resembles a man in his late 70s.
Solstice stared down at her reflection on the river, filled with both intrigue and a tinge of fear. She had changed while asleep. From a child to a teenager, she deduced that at least a decade has passed. She reached the age of maturity while in slumber, and Primo Stella was no longer in the relic. The rattle is still kept on her person, but the star it had sanctified is long gone.
She distinctly recalls what fate may have befallen it, the day she got separated from her siblings.
•
Horrified, Aether and Lumine urgently reached out for their little sister. For that brief moment, even the small child felt that something went terribly wrong—a tiny mistake she never meant to happen. Solstice looked back at the twins and also reached out.
"Solstice—!!!" They cried out.
Alas, the moment she blinked, the world turned black and everything else felt like a dream.
•
Solstice bit back a grimace at the blurry memory, ashamed by her foolhardiness.
"Aether and Lumine said it was supposed to merge with me on my 16th year." She murmured, "Is that what happened? Or..."
She did not finish her thought and instead pursed her lips shut. A delicate hand reaches up, tracing the contours of her throat. Her voice has changed as well, losing its pitchy squeaks to a lower tone that seems more refined. It was very strange to hear this rich tone come from her. A part of her feels anxious and timid, as if she does not belong in her own skin; but it was not as if she felt like rejecting this body either, proving it is truly hers. Fortunately, she is now getting used to it the more she talked. Although, a fellow conversationalist would have made all of this a better prospect.
Speaking of which, this world is peculiar.
Solstice began to encounter more wildlife as she explored further. It is unknown whether her sheer inexperience or her love for animals held her back from hunting often. The general preference in meal routines seem to center on the fruits and vegetation she could pick. She can see that the expanse of the continent holds varying terrains. As of now, she has managed to visit a few beaches and traversed the majority of the jungle. At some point, she managed to settle down in a hidden cavern by a rapid creek that flowed onto a huge lake—the perimeters of which were surrounded by an orchard of fruit trees.
The location was too good to be true, yet she found it by following a kaleidoscope of crystalflies. The notion of finding a sanctuary through them was a little too convenient. Although suspicious, she knew better than to look at a gift horse in the mouth. Thus, she merely counted her blessings gratefully.
Time also passes inconsistently and a part of her is confused whether the climate is to blame. On some weeks, she felt as if the sun stays up too long; and on others, she felt as if it arrives too late. The cycles of night and day were weird yet—in all honesty—far from inconvenient. If anything, it was almost as if time itself aided her in getting a better schedule.
In fact, it was almost as if the sun was a personal spotlight that protectively looms over her.
It was three months later that Solstice made a very impactful discovery.
After finalizing a settlement for herself, she began to notice the peculiarities of this world—especially the utter convenience of resources. It is not so obvious that the strange occurrences warranted suspicion, only confusion. There has been a lot of times in her travels wherein an unexplained phenomenon occurs at the most convenient opportunity. In particular, this is applicable to whenever she is facing more trouble than she could handle.
Solstice can be rather clumsy with self-care due to her spirited nature. She never had to worry in the past since the twins were present to remind her or, better yet, dote on her. A rosy hue flushed on her cheeks in embarrassment at the remembrance, now realizing how much they really pampered her. It made her all the more appreciative of those days, and longing to experience it all again. Sometimes, these reveries can lead to serendipitous encounters.
Once, she spent too much time adventuring into the woods and neglected to bring food. As if to pacify the growls of her stomach, an apple fell on her head with a resounding thud. It came all the way from the tree by the ridge hovering above her, which was a little ridiculous. She could have sworn that tree was not in season to bloom. The lone traveler did not complain as she rerouted to reach the tree.
Imagine her shock when an entire blooming garden welcomed her at the top of the ridge.
On the following week, Solstice has reached a rather humid area. This was a section of the woodland that catered more to the tropical plants. The environment is either a marsh or a rainforest, with a desert on the farther westside. Sweat stuck like second skin as the climate bore down on her. Just as she was about to collapse from the heat, thunder bellowed from the skies and rain began to pour. It was not as odd since she was in a rainforest, but the timing was a little too abrupt. Alas, a bit delirious from the heat, all she felt was relief amidst the refreshing cold.
As they say, third time is the charm.
Solstice had gone hiking with her siblings countless times in previous worlds. She knows the protocol when trekking uneven terrains without a map, and what to do when stranded or trapped. A particular mountain range gave her quite the challenge amidst her explorations. There was a bunch of ruins spotted at one of the highest peaks, but it was practically unreachable from the rest of the hilltops. Climbing it from all the way to the base was impossible without proper gear. While Solstice knows Outlanders have wings, she has yet to either grow hers—as far as she knows—or control it to unfurl. She lost count how many times she had to retrace her steps after, once again, reaching a dead end. Dejectedly, she had to give up as she grew tired and night began to fall.
Then, the next morning, Solstice decided to try one last time to figure out how to reach the ruins.
Lo and behold, a stone bridge had formed.
The structure was honestly hazardous due to how it looked half-done. Fortunately, the foundations are stable and rigid. Only the overall appearance seems to be asymmetrical, as if a storm had ravaged the bridge while it came into existence. At that point, the young lady can confirm an astonishing fact.
This world bends to her will.
A zephyr blew, carrying a soothing hymn alongside the whistling gales. It sounded joyous yet almost timid, like a child meeting a new playmate.
"What is your name?" Solstice asked.
The question was instinctive, unbidden by rationality as the words escaped her lips. It just felt right to ask, to inquire the sentience of this world. The idea may be ludicrous but she can feel it now. A rumbling of the soil, a whisper from the winds, a rustle of the leaves, and a sway of the waves all communicated with her earnestly. Even her nights were comforted by the warmth of the fires that remained vigilant in the dark, fierce yet nurturing.
Teyvat, It responded to her unspokenly.
Solstice does not understand how effortlessly she can converse with this planet.
Her thoughts reach out to the world but It does not respond with words this time. Instead, It releases a faint pulse that sang to her very being—
—with a nostalgic chime.
She gasped, "Primo Stella...?"
Teyvat croons proudly, ecstatic to now be officially introduced to Its creator.
『 Sworn, stood by her [ siblings' ] place 』
Much like how Aether and Lumine pampered their sister, Teyvat catered to Its maker.
Solstice fully embraced the possibilities that this world had presented to her. Whether it be resources or entertainment, the planet responds by giving what It perceives she needed or wanted. Even time itself moved according to her whim. Day brings out the sun when she wishes to explore, and night brings out the moon when she wishes to rest. That tidbit finally explained the strangely uneven hours of her day-night cycles. The conclusion gave her a bit of a headache to deduce the accuracy of time, but she supposed it barely matters for now.
However, limits were put into place since Teyvat was still learning—much like her.
It only knows as much as she can understand of the universe. She vaguely asked for a book she has yet to read. It gave her one with blank pages because It did not possess the grain of knowledge she sought, a saddening thought. The revelation amplified the loneliness of her circumstances, but she tried not to retain that kind of mindset too long.
There are still so many questions about how this worked, and she found answers in the scattered ruins across the continent. Details she overlooked were hidden in the most unexpected nooks that archived bits of history. The few ruins she found told stories of creation rather than a civilization that had long past. Teyvat is a young planet that does not have much to tell, but one truth did make sense of almost everything.
She created Teyvat.
She did it while asleep throughout the decade.
Her Primo Stella cradled her after being separated from her siblings. It protected her and then gradually expanded into a world that can provide for her. The memories of the process are slowly coming back in clearer recollections. The images of her astral form dancing amongst the stars and commanding the elements to take shape—it all unraveled like a fairy tale montage. Every aspect of the planet took a hint of inspiration from her memories of previous worlds she visited with her siblings.
Her siblings, the twins...
The thought makes her wonder in hope.
"Teyvat," she murmured, "will you bring Aether and Lumine to me?"
Suddenly, everything went still as if time stopped and the elements silenced.
Minutes later, nothing happened.
Then, everything moved again.
Solstice knew the answer and a somber smile took over her countenance. Her trembling hands folded together over her lap, head bowed. Long fringes shielded her eyes as small droplets fell upon her pale knuckles, the scent of salt wafting in the air.
Teyvat hummed morosely, wishing to comfort yet unable to comprehend.
"I understand." She reassured shakily.
That was the first time she ever lied.
The Creator gave the wolfdog a name.
Invictus, to be unconquerable, is the honor of this entitlement. Words hold power, and even more so the names bestowed upon any lifeform. He knew not why his fleeting existence would even deserve a name, but he was in no position to question the will of this world's maker. However, he did wonder why The Creator would choose such a powerful name when She barely knew of him. Nevertheless, to show gratitude, he left resources in the Outlander's abode or somewhere along the common path. Whenever She felt lost, he creates trails as a helping nudge of direction. In slumber, he allows himself to approach and provide warmth; but he makes himself scarce just as quickly as dawn arose.
As his purpose entailed, he watched as the young lady—his ward—named Solstice began to learn. First was to survive in the wild, and the next was to speak with Teyvat. The experience was both enthralling and sobering for him, a matter which astounds him in some ways. He and his brothers hold no capacity to feel deeply, at least not for their own behalf. They are mere extensions of the three realms in Teyvat—the Mortal Realm, in his own case. He resolved to just let it be without further inquiry, unable to delve into further comprehension.
When the time comes, Invictus knew the girl would be ready.
Then, his departure will follow.
Despite his resolve, a part of him had wavered when Solstice wept. He felt raw yearning and grief as She spoke of Her siblings. That was the precise moment he realized that The Divine Creator is but a child, nearly as young as the world She had molded. This caused great concern within him, whether the right thing is to bestow the burden of reign on her petite shoulders. In his eyes, she has always been delicate due to her appearance; but now, her heart is clearly just as fragile. That had been the only time he ever questioned the term of his obligations as her distant shield—even though he desired to soothe her.
As consolation, Invictus approached the lonely Outlander once again when she slept. He bowed his head to ever chastely kiss her brow. In his mind, he gave a solitary vow.
Lord Aether and Lady Lumine will arrive in Teyvat, someday surely.
Heterochrome eyes stared up at the three moons, contemplating. Then, he turned to walk away into the night. In his ruminations, the wolfdog stood valiantly upon the highest mountain peak. He howls, protectively and defiantly, as a proclamation of his faith to The Divine One.
I, by name of Invictus, shall protect all souls within the Mortal Realm and preserve their bonds—
Then, his eyes of sapphire and emerald glowed with fervor. It demands power which Teyvat granted in turn, for the planet itself acknowledges his oath.
—until that fateful day arrives, wherein these three star-crossed siblings can reunite.
『 Dancing with astral grace 』
Solstice never stayed down for long.
Teyvat may not be able to grant her one true desire, but that was no excuse for slacking. In fact, she channels all her frustration into determination. From now onwards, she needs to do better by herself. Her powers became a good focus, as well as training for swordsmanship. The primary motivator is to achieve mastery of oneself in order to figure out her abilities and use them to hopefully reunite with Aether and Lumine. If they cannot be brought to her, she will find a way to bring herself to them. Of course, lacking a proper mentor makes everything a little tedious; but Outlanders never back down even with a handicap, and she is no exception. The sentient world even supports her by providing monsters that can be her sparring partners.
It was bizarre at first, especially the slimes.
The creatures do not emit any sort of ill will, but they attack once she has readied her stance. Whenever they are supposedly slain, it was more like they have dispersed. Then, after a few minutes, they always return with an array of fruits and berries to offer for her as snacks. Solstice has no idea whether it was still the exact same set of slimes but they at least do not hold a grudge. If anything, they all celebrate with her when she succeeds in the sparring sessions.
Most of them lack high intelligence but they are certainly challenging enough for a beginner like herself. They all have synergy, as if capable of team work just by instinct. It makes sense since they all attack as a group and can merge in bulks—only applicable for slimes of similar element—to create armors or transform into a bigger slime. Accidents do happen occasionally, wherein the monsters seem to panic comically whenever she gets injured. Their varied elements give different displays of emotion, showing the funniest sights.
That was another shred of knowledge that Teyvat had helpfully supplied: elements.
There are seven main elements that flow through nature's veins: anemo, the element that tames the elusive winds; geo, the element that governs the lands of stone; electro, the element that dictates the might of lightning; dendro, the element that nurtures the soil of flora; hydro, the element that controls the torrential waters; pyro, the element that sparks the wildest flames; and cryo, the element that thrives under the coldest reign of ice. With these seven, she eventually learns the value of elemental reactions which are the coalescence of the natural order.
"Hyaa—!"
A youthful warcry echoed as pyro breaks through a shield of frost. It shattered just as Solstice raised a pillar behind her to counter the recoil, propelling herself back into confrontation. In a swirl of anemo, lightning strikes accompanied by a splash. The conduit paralyzes surrounding foes as vines crawl from the soles of Solstice's feet. They clung to cryo slimes that tried to flee and, with a menacing glint in her eyes, she commands.
"Burn."
In a blink, the slimes of coldest ice melted at the face of infernal divine fury.
However, in another second, Solstice shivered as she approached the other slimes watching.
"I'm so sorry for killing your buddies!" She said.
The blob creatures only bounced with reassuring eyes that seem to connote happy smiles. To comfort their lovely girl, the cryo slimes were quick to return with help from the planet.
As such, Teyvat bent to her will once more as she slowly but surely mastered these elements.
Solstice fought with a sharp ferocity overlapped by the elegance of her dance. For now, her choice of weapon is the reformed vessel of Primo Stella—from a mere rattle into a noble scepter. It grew long via transfiguration magic, an acceptable length for a working staff in combat. In the field, the young lady resembled more a quick-footed majorette than a vicious mercenary. However, that did not lessen her capability as a fighter.
The stronger this Outlander grew, the farther she ventured into what Teyvat held in store.
Regardless of her childish heart, Solstice admits the merits of hunting.
Unlike the rest of her survival skills, this particular one is less honed than the rest. She did not like harming animals. Fishing was already a chore for her, which is why she stuck to a vegetarian lifestyle most of the time. It was unavoidable sometimes due to the demands of her own body. Lumine taught her that the bodies of Outlanders tend to need more sustenance after reaching full maturity, especially females. In a way, the life from the preys they hunt turn into essence that feed their magical abilities. It is not to an extent they devour the soul, but rather the remnants that linger in the physical vessel. She was so young when that lesson was brought up so she barely understood enough to recall it.
Aether reinforced that lesson by taking her hunting with him a few times whenever Lumine was busy.
Sometimes, a lonesome heart must be hardened in order to keep beating.
A bow and arrow set is always the preferred choice of weapon. It is less confrontational, yet precise and swift when delivering efficiency. Of course, it took her a while to truly master it; and in the end, Solstice remains strongly reliant upon her blades. Moving targets are very difficult for her, but she found it to be a good excuse to avoid hunting unless absolutely necessary. At worst, her trapping skills can get the job done when all else failed.
Henceforth, with a quiver of arrows on her back and a bow in hand, she ventured into the wild.
Solstice watched out for any sign of life that could lead to an animal. Bigger is better as it can last longer if she used the freezer method of the hydro and cryo slimes to preserve the meat. That means it will take longer before she needs to hunt again. With that in mind, she relies on the elements of Teyvat whispering guidance to her ears. It may be slightly considered cheating, but she honestly prefers to address it as part of her cunning.
Against the occasional doubt, she found solace in the vigilant gaze of Invictus. He feels like a keeper whom gives encouragement in his own way, and scolds her with a random snarl whenever she lets her curiosity grow too much. Despite the harshness, there was no judgment to be detected from it—only patience and understanding.
Soon enough, keen eyes spotted tracks leading to a meadow. It is a renowned spot to the Outlander, a famous area where she found dandelions in heavy abundance long ago. Crouching low, she silenced her steps and swiftly followed the trail. By sheerly raw instinct, her senses intensify as the hunt had become the focal point of concentration. It was a subconscious effect for all Outlanders on a prowl.
Then, she froze once target was in sight.
A majestic buck stood vigilantly beside an elegant doe. The male deer's antlers stood tall and branched wide, revealing that it may be quite aged. From the closeness, they are likely a mated pair yet no fawn in sight. For some reason, the lack of offspring eases the heart of this young huntress.
Solstice always preferred a quick death for those she hunts. Sadly, she has not mastered the bow to exert enough power and commit the precision of one-shot kills. In fact, she would say her skills for the hunt are below average. However, what she lacks in technique, she makes up in resourceful tactics. The terrain can be used to her advantage with strategic traps and manipulations. After all, she already knows the area like the back of her hand. For any hiccups, the planet itself shall bend to her will.
Henceforth, her first arrow was shot as a misdirection.
Animals are highly intuitive and show intelligence when self-preservation is at stake. Hence, they deduce options by analyzing their surroundings in the blink of an eye. Afterwards, they adapt and then it becomes a question of fight or flight. Deer are herbivores and are naturally the prey type rather than predator. Their course of action is thus usually to flee danger than confront. Stags can put up a fight by lunging with their antlers when cornered in close proximity.
Therefore, the young huntress kept her distance.
The first arrow removed directions for the two deer: its origin, for they know their predator hides there in wait; and its destination, due to their natural instinct to flinch away from the deadly projectiles that were thrown at them. Upon calculating which option is farthest from both, the stag and the doe chose said path to flee. However, even that decision has already been calculated by their huntress.
Solstice had placed traps which would assure that the deer would follow a linear route. That way, they can never entirely escape her even if she lags behind her targets. Nonetheless, she sprints as fast as she could with her senses at an all-time high. At some point, she swings herself up to a tree and prepares another arrow. Keen eyes sharpen to lock on target, ever patiently waiting.
Then, the second arrow is fired.
It activates a trap that blocks any other route but forward, slamming down high obstacles. Without a choice, the stag and the doe move towards the flowing stream. Alas, the huntress has another three arrows pulled back. The lengths are infused with a swirl of anemo to enhance the speed. The tip of the arrowheads glow with frosty shots of cryo. In a blink, a trio of arrows are simultaneously fired much faster than the previous attempts.
All three landed upon the stream in a triangular formation. The timing coincides the exact moment four pairs of hooves made contact. The two preys are paralyzed by solid ice as the cryo arrowheads froze the stream, and its cold grasp crawled along their flailing limbs. As the deer struggled to break free, they are distracted by the rustle of leaves.
A shadow loomed over them.
The last thing both animals saw was a huntress and her dual daggers.
Solstice hardened her heart as she lands the final blow, propelling her body into a spin to gain a faster and more powerful trajectory. She had stabbed her daggers unto the pair whose hearts shall cease to beat in her hands. Geo energy gleamed like molten gold upon the blades and then petrified the veins of life that had been cut, preventing any from bleeding out. The ice shattered as the water flows again, as if to cleanse the hunt. Quick as a fleeting dream, two bodies fell as a pair of lifeless heaps.
It was painless and clean...
...yet Solstice still felt tainted.
Crouching down, delicate hands gently slid lifeless eyes to close. It is an act of compassion as well as gratitude, accompanied by solemn prayer. A few dendro slimes sprouted along the riverbank and then extended the leaves of their flowers. With respectful holds of the large petals, the carcasses are carried back to camp by the bouncing blobs. The young huntress follows at a leisure pace, collecting her arrows along the way.
"May thou forever prance," she prays, "in everlasting freedom amongst meadows of paradise."
Solstice, for a moment, believed that a mated pair of souls passed by her. The aurora borealis shimmers in welcome like a mystical veil above for the recently departed fayths.
The forest echoes a quiet dirge.
•
•
•
That night, Invictus was gone.
Despite its abruptness, a part of her understood so she only spoke her sincerest thanks. There was no time to say goodbye, so she did not call it that.
Hopefully, they can meet again.
『 Still, withstanding time and space 』
Teyvat is a peculiar abode.
It was not the first time Solstice had landed on a sentient planet. She can recall a memory about one named Gaia, back when she was a much younger Outlander. The dwellers call themselves Cetra and can speak to the planet itself. Aether claims to hear the whispers of the earth, while Lumine claims to hear the songs of the sea. As for their youngest sister, she claims to feel the emotions of something called the Lifestream—as informed by the Cetra for the siblings. Everyone had been so shocked when the little traveler, at the tender age of four, was able to manifest this intricate power into solid spherical forms. It was called materia, which are memories of the planet and used to channel the lost arts. It spoke of Solstice's great aptitude for magic, especially one that simulates creation, as she was able to resonate with Gaia despite not being one of Her children. In fact, the two materia are composed of the planet's oldest memories: a black orb later named as Meteor, the epitome of nothingness; and a white orb later named as Holy, the designation of renewed creation. When the trio of siblings had left, both materia were surrendered to the Cetra—and, in retrospect, that may have been the only time they left a trace of their existence amidst their journey.
Solstice wonders if this world she had apparently created took inspiration from Gaia. She explored every ruin she can find, delving into dark caverns to uncover whatever secrets that lay hidden. Through each hieroglyph, Teyvat had told her of Its creation by divine grace of The Astral Goddess—an alter ego, specifically a projection of her powers. She scoured every mountain and crevice of the continent, before riding the waves to reach quaint islands. Whatever little history she can grasp, the young lady spared no effort to investigate every scrap of knowledge she can gather.
Now, the lone Outlander has a crucial decision to make: north, or south...?
Solstice sighed as she scurried hastely towards the tallest plateau. The scent of plum wafted in the wind as its petals colored the intangible. Plopping down on the vibrant grassland, she watched the stars twinkle on the nightsky. Despite the lively sight, a part of her thought the sky to be rather dull. It is a window to the Outer Space, embellished by three moons and fragments of starlight. Rather than a pitch black abyss, the colors of the cosmos beyond Teyvat can be seen flickering like an angelic halo. On stormy days, clouds of gray will cover the horizon. Then, as the solar chariot rode its fiery trail, everything will brighten in a coat of cerulean with puffs of white.
This sky is a protective shell created by opposing realms at the poles of Teyvat. Although, "opposing" in this context refers more to the fact that one is made of light while another of darkness. Regardless of contrast, these realms complement each other and coexist peacefully in one dimension—with a third one keeping balance at the middle.
The Light Realm of the north...
The Void Realm of the south...
The Mortal Realm at the median...
Solstice bestowed each realm their names after the memories of creation displayed its purview. Where she presently sat is the territory of the Mortal Realm, a paradise for all that is mortal—thus an apt name for it—yet welcomes any entity originating from Light or Void, as is the balance it represents. There were times she went to the borders where the realms sort of blend together. It was inconceivable to witness, a triad of realms existing as one conjoined world. The elements echoed that it was only made possible by a focal existence—The All-Creator, They who have awakened from slumber.
A rumbling growl snapped her out of reverie, looking sideways. There is a noble wolfdog staring back at her with eyes of shimmering crimson, alike to rubies and garnets. The beastly beauty stands tall enough to be the size of a mammoth, proud yet seemingly humbled by the mere presence of the petite woman amidst the grass. Its fur is sleek black, emitting an aura of phantom smoke that was fast to dissipate upon notice. A tail swayed in dignified confidence, not once touching the dirt of ground. A display of neutrality is most uncanny for this creature which thrives from bloodlust and primal dominance. It stalks towards Solstice whom smiled and inclined her head politely. The canine returned the cordial gesture as it purred pleasantly, almost playfully and teasingly. More of its sharp teeth gleamed as it seems to twitch a smile back at her.
"Well," she chuckled, "aren't you quite charming?"
She wondered if Invictus looked this gallant—but in shades of brown. It was dark when he showed his paw, but she recalls its shade of moonlit auburn by the firelight.
This one is relatively the same size.
A tender hand presents a trusting palm and was then met by a nudging snout. It combed through soft ebony cloak reminiscent of a fleece blanket amidst the winter cold. Ruby eyes glanced imploringly, a sly glint of alluring mischief beckoning the lady.
"Very well." Solstice giggled.
Thus, she stood and looked towards the south—where the world is most sublime at its darkest shadows.
"Will you escort me to your realm?"
The wolfdog howled haughtily.
A journey to the abyss began with a display of its neverending night. In far distance from the Mortal Realm, the chariot gave daylight that did not extend to the Void Realm. Nonetheless, a reaction can be observed as the deep darkness roused. It was as if every soul of nocturnal lifeforms took sanctuary in the labyrinth as soon as the sun rose to shine. As such, the void appears to grow deeper and thicker yet almost welcoming due to its familiarity.
Contrary to belief, Solstice did not stay in endless shadows. The wolfdog—to whom she gave the name, Morpheus—proficiently tours her around the limitless corridors of the abyss. Much like one can expect from the void, the place held no definite structure or form to draw direction. Only a creature of this realm can navigate its entire territory. Amidst the dark, there are doors brimming with light. Each one shows what is supposed to be the reflection of a different world. Some display nostalgic views of stars that have come and gone from magnificent yet faraway galaxies. The rest give picturesque displays of the territories in Teyvat's Mortal Realm. Solstice would occasionally reach out to these doors, yet an invisible and indestructible glass would prevent her from passing through the threshold.
Morpheus only shook his head as if in confirmation of her deduction.
"These worlds through the looking glass..." Solstice murmured, "do they envision the abyss? Or is it the abyss which stares back?"
She pets Morpheus behind his ears, smiling at the resulting purr. The young lady finds some strange comfort to his warming sound in juxtaposition to the coldness of his coat. Once she halted her motions, that was his cue to move onward.
Soon, they have reached a dominion that hits a little closer to home.
For Solstice, it was quite literal.
Morpheus lowers himself when she makes a move to dismount. He kept near like a loyal pup, feeling the tremble of his creator's knees. This is a domain that represented the heart of the dark abyss. It is a single circular platform amidst a starry void, the call of an ancient memory. On the surface at the center, a triquetra mark pulses in eager salute. If one could embrace their dreams, figments will manifest into existence.
"Cosmogenesis," she whispered, "this is...without a doubt...Cosmogenesis."
As if on cue, starlight gathered in clusters until they turned into a pair of sparkling silhouettes before her baffled gaze. The outlines are strikingly familiar, so achingly nostalgic that Solstice wondered about the time that has passed. Back then, at the beginning, the differences between the self that fell asleep and the one that woke up scared her. Everything felt just like a surreal dream until now, in which the weight of a full decade finally wore her down.
Because whilst her body and soul may have grown, her heart remained that of a child.
Tearful eyes blur her sight yet the smiles of Aether and Lumine retained all their clarity. They intertwine their hands together and stretched out the other to their younger sibling.
"Hello, Sol."
"Our sweet, little sister..."
Their voices tinkled gently like the old chimes of her rattle. It consumed her so painfully, a constricting boa that is just short of asphyxiation.
Then, as her hands touched theirs, the images of her siblings dissolve into starlight once again.
"Even if only as fragments of memory, our love stays true forever."
"We will always be here for you, Sol."
Solstice has been made aware, time and time again.
Teyvat was created by her through the powers which joined with Primo Stella. Her memories gave It form with the continent that mimicked the worlds she had seen with the twins. These diverse ecosystems have birthed wildlife that behave so similarly to beasts she had favored and adored. However, a part of her—the side so petulantly frustrated and aggrieved—believes that this planet cannot truly understand the complexity of emotional value...at least, not to an extent that It did not feel shallow.
This has proven her wrong.
Teyvat does understand. It may not be capable of granting her heartfelt wish; but It can work hard to provide her the home she yearns to have. Even if they are only illusions made by fragile memories and dreams, the genuine emotions which nurture Its existence can be neither denied nor forgotten.
Rendered to her knees, Solstice cried once more in homesickness.
"Goodnight, baby sis."
She misses Aether. She misses her older brother whom protected her from everything, and supported her in anything she dreamed.
"Sweet dreams, Lil Sun."
She misses Lumine. She misses her older sister whom told her stories of the stars beyond reach, and humored her whimsical imagination.
"I love you, Atti. I love you, Mimin."
"We love you too, Sol."
She just wants them back.
She loves Teyvat and everything It symbolized; but It is not the family she needed by her side.
A world without Aether and Lumine is just a barren dreamscape.
Morpheus bows his head to tuck her into his neck, a demonstration of his empathic solidarity. The fluff engulfs the weeping girl into a loving embrace. It is an affection she returned fully, even as she wailed for siblings whom—to be frank—cannot hear her.
Deep in the abyss, secret grievances are wordlessly confessed in tears.
『 Ever relentlessly, 』
As the Elders always said, what does not kill an Outlander will make them stronger.
It admittedly took a while for Solstice to willingly part from the Void Realm in the end. The domain managed to effectively simulate Cosmogenesis and it was so cozy for her. It may not have captured every detail, but the atmosphere was enough. The regions in the Mortal Realm are comparable to leafing through a bunch of postcards—stories of adventures that feed the spirit. Meanwhile, the Void Realm reminds her of family albums—every reel of photograph vividly shows precious moments within a still frame. Both are valuable yet the latter always weighs heavier on the heart for its personal bonds.
Surprisingly, it was Morpheus whom encouraged her to depart.
Thy final realm awaits thee, he seems to tell her with his expressive glare.
Solstice pouted sadly, shoulders deflating in mock disappointment. An adoring lick to her cheek breaks the facade as she giggles at the giant wolfdog. With a thankful smile, she mounts him again to ride back to the Mortal Realm.
Much to her surprise, another greeted them back.
It was another wolfdog but white, the antithesis of Morpheus yet rivals him perfectly in size. A pair of yellow eyes, resembling golden topaz, stares kindly yet stoically. Slit pupils dilate in silent ardor, a rare sentiment for what seems to be an entity of utmost amour propre. While Morpheus wears an obsidian furcoat of phantom smoke, his elegant counterpart amasses an ivory cloak of soft clouds. It had been sitting pristinely before they arrived, and remained poised when it stood to meet them.
Morpheus seems to know this fellow hound, or perhaps it only takes brief eye contact for them to be introduced. Either way, he entrusted his charge to this other beastly beauty before sprinting back to his home realm. According to him, the existence of his ilk are as ephemeral as most dreams in the waking world—a mere guide to the realm from whence they came, no more and no less. Now that she has no need of it, he is unlikely to emerge again. With that warning, the young lady—whose fondness he earned—felt melancholic after this farewell.
Perhaps, when she masters every aspect of her powers, she will see him again. On that fateful day, he will be part of her creations.
The auburn wolfdog, Invictus; the black wolfdog, Morpheus; and this wolfdog too will be another.
"Are you going to escort me to the Light Realm this time?" Solstice asked.
The canine bows gracefully with a reverent groan.
Solstice smiles in anticipation, opening her palm as a silent request. The creature rose to the test and pushed its head towards the proffered appendage, dignified yet ecstatic. In a blink, the Outlander found a fitting name for the colossal dog.
"I think I'll call you...Arcadius."
Similar to Morpheus, the newly dubbed Arcadius howled proudly.
Then, they were off to head north.
Unlike the abyss, the Light Realm is not untouchable by its opposing element. While the Void Realm lacks daylight since it is unventured by the sun, the Light Realm can resonate with both night and day. While the stars and the moons are constantly seen in the abyss, they are elusive amongst the brightness of the heavenly order in the north. It is also susceptible to the temperamental ferocity of storms, yet just as adept in shining a rainbow after they pass.
However, these directly contrasting realms do share three particular similarities.
First, both possess doorways to different worlds or various corners of Teyvat. While the abyss functions as a looking glass that shows the world it perceives, the Light Realm presents an idealized version of the respective dimension. These sets of conceptual ideals symbolize unified ambitions and aspirations, likely of the majority if not of the god that either created it or oversee its existence. Unfortunately, these assorted doorways are all inaccessible even to Solstice. It did give her a plausible idea, which sparked a hopeful anxiety in her chest.
Can she influence these worlds to leave a trail or message? If so, can she use that to help Aether and Lumine find her someday?
It is a curious endeavor for another day.
Second is the aurora borealis that connects the two realms and bridges over the middle one. It can only be seen above the region of frozen tundra within the Mortal Realm. In Solstice's first few weeks in Teyvat, she mistakenly and somewhat dismissively thought it to be the fictitious Rainbow Road that leads to a leprechaun's pot of gold—an old tale, as imparted to her by Lumine. Knowing Teyvat is an amalgamation of her dreams and memories, the connection may not be too farfetched. When Solstice asked, the wolfdogs provided disparate answers to her inquiry.
Morpheus claims that the aurora is a shelter for the souls of creation yet to be born. Essentially, it is a fabric of time and space which can also manifest as dreams for those capable of it. In a few other pious beliefs, it can be treated as the plane in-between the living and the dead—basically the preconception of "the other side" in subtext.
Arcadius claims that the aurora is an ultimate mix of the akashic records and holy grail, like an archive of Teyvat's unified knowledge. It is the accumulative testament that drives the world to progression and evolution. If every life is a cog in the gears of fate, the ties woven by the aurora borealis is the chain that drives them to move and connect. In some way, it is also a loom that weaves the threads of fate to complete destiny's tapestry.
Solstice would love to either believe in both, or just leave it as the pretty curtains of the celestial order.
Once again, her thoughts went to the likely eldest hound from not so long ago—Invictus. What would he have replied to her? Morpheus and Arcadius did not speak of their brother, mostly because they knew little about him. They did not exist simultaneously so they did not meet him, unlike the duo whom got to cross gazes. What they do know is that his purpose was slightly different from theirs, which explains why he insisted to keep his distance from Solstice to the very end.
The last similarity between the Void Realm and Light Realm is that they both lack a definite structure. The former is composed of darkness where nocturnal lifeforms thrive in shadows and illusions. The latter resembles an imagery to the phrase "heaven on earth" amidst the foggy mirage and a radiance that never fades whether it be day or night. However, they do possess a focal domain that functions as their respective hearts.
For the Void Realm, it was the central dominion of a starry void.
For the Light Realm, it is a floating isle amongst the sea of clouds.
Solstice tilts her head in speechless wonder at the ethereal sight. Her eyes never strayed as Arcadius glides up and then pauses once his paws touch the ground on the isle. It was quite barren, and unlike the blossoming paradise of the Mortal Realm. As far as the eyes can see, there is only dry land with spots of greenery due to weeds. A geyser at the middle fed streams of water to spread to ravines. They form a perfect cross by heading towards the directions of the compass. Each one becomes a waterfall raining upon the unseen bottom of the Light Realm, where nothing but thick mist lingers.
This dull wasteland is a stark contradiction to what should have been a piece of celestial heaven; but to the young Outlander, it could not be anything else.
Because the idea of "heaven" is built upon the basic fundamental notions of faith.
Where is faith to be had in a world entirely devoid of believers and worshippers?
She is the only one here aside from the monsters of lesser intelligence and wildlife of nature. As she turns to her companion, she is further reminded that Arcadius too shall soon fade to nothing. He, like Morpheus and even Invictus, is an evanescent guide without any standing to exist once their roles have been fulfilled.
However, the elements remind her of another truth.
It is thy birthright to ascend and conquer, thy destiny to create and prosper.
Solstice feels a familiar thrumming in her veins. It flowed freely, practically singing within her pulsing bloodstream. The surge is provoked by her desires as evoked by her heart. It caters to the divine will, eager to quell this ageless sorrow and loneliness.
If Teyvat could not bring the esteemed Lord Aether and Lady Lumine—
—then perhaps, a new family will suffice for now.
If henceforth be thy desire, then thy will shath be done.
As she closed her eyes to embrace this dormant power, the overflow became searing heat. It boiled in anticipation of release, yet not quite hurting her.
In response, the geyser bursts with more water as if a dam has been released. Below the isle, the oceans form a towering column that reveal the root of the geyser. The isle itself is flooded as water devoured every surface area.
A swirl of starlight gathers around Solstice, dancing in circles like pixies. Some gather in her right hand as it clenched into a fist. The relic of Primo Stella comes into being, an effervescent beacon reborn unto its sphere. Her attire is then transformed into a free-flowing white dress. Long wavy hair fluttered like an opaque veil, trailing behind her.
For Thou art The Divine One—
Eyes reopened, Solstice steps down from her wolf mount and Arcadius graciously stays. She walks barefoot and her golden anklets jingled. Rather than sinking into the flood, the soles of her feet remained above the surface as ripples form with every step.
Arcadius was just as unfazed by the running water drenching his paws in contrast. His sapphire glare is utterly transfixed upon this goddess whom created him. Within the remnants of his will, he lamented how neither Invictus nor Morpheus could witness this alongside him.
—only for Thee,
Before cloaks of white faded and topaz eyes closed, Arcadius clung to the vivid memory of Her...
Shath Teyvat bend Its knee.
...until it too was relinquished from his feeble grasp.
『 SOLSTICE ascends to reign. 』
『 Thy will forevermore only one, 』
Sunfall and Moonrise harmoniously danced, painting the world in eternal twilight. Fragments of light, the morning and evening stars, have scattered across the sky. Time has begun to flow yet life stood still in rhythms of soft heartbeats and slow breaths sealed in conches. The entire world is asleep yet The Divine One remains awake with loneliness as company.
The gales could spare no song to ease this solemn melancholy of Their Eminence.
Above the water's surface, They stood alone.
It has been a year since the birth of Teyvat, yet the young woman traverses by Herself. While physically grown, She stays a child at heart even with a brilliant mind. Her beloved siblings could not be wished unto Teyvat, not like many things in Its realms.
A distant bell chimes, henceforth She walks. The wind howls as the three moons glisten. The waves roar as the sun looms. Not once She faltered, for only rebirth awaits Thou Imperial Grace.
She walks with confidence, head held high to display nothing less than dignified elegance. Nevertheless, Her regal gait remains far from haughty arrogance or smug defiance. Every step ripples across the calm as eyes are kept close in mimicry of somber psalms.
A star falls before Her and morphs into an old relic, the former vessel of Primo Stella. It rests upon Her left palm as Her right hand runs along its intricate bodice. Fair fingertips brush against crystal, and by will, extends a toy into a weapon of range. The orb at the top produced luminous tendrils of incandescent splendor. They entwine to form an intricate pattern similar to a four-pointed celtic knot, enacting a starlight bloom. Like pixie dust, a trail of glitter flutters briefly behind its wake whenever it moved.
Beauty and grace, Solstice is the light.
『 いえゆい のぼめの 』
TEYVAT sang as a choir of voices to serve as Her accompaniment. It delegated a language that was both local and foreign. On the other hand, the feeling of the message carried through the melody—one of reverent worship.
Meanwhile, Solstice hummed as an oxymoron lead.
Simultaneously, her body is the conductor of this orchestral performance.
Her limbs move fluidly as if she is learning a classic waltz or sway. Alas, she needs no partner other than the rhapsody that reverberated through the searing heat within her veins. Her scepter spun with the simplest flick of her wrists, a show of dexterous coordination by her fingertips. She first faced the moons which shyly peek behind the clouds, before basking the sun's warmth from its perch by the floating isle's end.
At the edges, columns of stone begin to rise from where the four ravines used to pour. Vines slither along the shaft like vipers, constricting in place as flowerbuds began to form. The top of the columns took shape as torches of vermillion flame, while a gloom of fog thickens in-between the pillars as crystallized shields. The waterfalls halted entirely, and for that one moment, the world held its breath.
Only The Divine One moved, with the grace and poise of a swan.
『 れんみり よじゅよご 』
The lady in white paused as she took a deep breath.
Her right arm pulled back, rearing the scepter as if to strike. Instead, it spun over the back of her palm to adjust her grip to its middle. Swiftly, she brought it over her head with another baton twirl. Both hands now held the staff, spread evenly as if an offering to the nonexistent gods of Teyvat. Her feet began to tread farther—crossing deliberately over each other much like a cunning cat does—ascending to the podium that was once the isle's geyser, currently inactive. Its surface was covered by water, which now resembles glass to the young woman whom stood over it. Ripples formed beneath her soles, the only proof that it was not crystallized or frozen.
As Solstice reached her spot, her right foot lifted with a small kick. The short hop gave momentum to firmly plant said foot unto the water, yet it still did not submerge. Alas, the ripples it did form this time spread more urgently and evoked a wave across the isle's surface. The solitary girl bent backwards as she lowered her staff to her upper chest. Chin tilted upwards, her eyes closed while her arms pulled and then pushed in succession as her foot-pivot spun behind the other. She bends the knee as her torso bows forward, putting her into a crouching position.
Before the scepter can touch the water, adept hands slid closer. In a sharp motion, they alter its position to a vertical stance. Its bottom tip, in a show of control, grazed the water and steadied. Nonetheless, much like the wings of a butterfly, gentle flutters can create typhoons.
Therefore, when the staff disturbed the waters, the waves rose in command.
『 いえゆい のぼめの 』
Raising her head, Solstice focused her gaze forward passionately.
Effortlessly elegant, she spun the staff while keeping a proper posture. A bit more carefully, she begins to stand back up as her arms once again lifted the staff over her head. Four of the main fingers on each hand let go, a pair of thumbs staying to hook the scepter in place. Eyes slid to a solemn close, head tilting up. The sea breeze blew tenderly, fluttering her long hair and carrying the scent of salt.
It was mesmerizing to witness as the rising tides followed, as if dancing alongside her. They surged like wild waves yet tamed to obey the will of a relic and its wielder. The geyser seems to produce more water again, a calm stream under the surface that starts elevating the Outlander whom rigidly kept upright. What was formerly a barren wasteland is now a magnificent aquaria displaying hydro vessels in various shapes of underwater fauna—fish, turtles, jellyfish, dolphins, manta rays, and more freely swim along the currents.
The tidal waves swirled, a hurricane or perhaps whirlpool in the making...
...and at its eye is Solstice.
『 れんみり よじゅよご 』
The solidified pillars took its turn to rise and shine, literally and figuratively.
As if to rival the tides and reach for the skies, they extend to higher heights. The flowerbuds open into full blossoms, transforming into white petals and glowing ember corolla. The vermillion fires burned brighter and hotter, turning into a breathtaking bluish white. Their luminosity perfectly depicted the image of newborn stars. It is a complementary hue upon the flowers which also seem to connote a hint of periwinkle on its dainty petals.
Solstice resumes movement, wielding the scepter of Primo Stella with one hand again. The geyser also returned to its rambunctious nature, bursting a fountain of clear water. It grew as a rising stage in the shape of a hibiscus flower, while the dancer gave a series of twirls as she swung the elongated baton around her. The sphere's celtic knot halo shone as vibrantly as the sun. It gradually engulfs the lady in white and crawls on her skin like ink, whose power began to reach a climax.
Snowflakes slowly drift into the impromptu stadium, momentarily freezing parts of the pool. The frost created unique patterns but just as quickly melted back into liquid. As the lovely radiance swayed, the ephemeral ice acted like a prism of iridescence—and reflected upon its fragile state. The fall of snow was consistent with the winds that influenced it. Soon, it becomes like a meteor shower that leave imprints of frost before vanishing.
In hindsight, this scenery depicted the dance of sugar plum fairies.
『 はさてかなえ くたまえ 』
Solstice pauses as the choral hymn transitions into a deeper octave.
The scepter twirls over her wrist once before she throws it upwards. It spins midair, ascending to greater heights due to sheer force. The pair of hands which previously held it now clasp together in prayer, determined eyes close to concentrate. Henceforth, she summons the core of her dormant powers—to envision, to dream, to create, and to enlighten. As she does, the hydro hibiscus expands to divide into seven bursting petals. The clear water begins to reflect across the spectrum, flashing from one color to another. It moves as if the petals dance beneath the young lady's feet, swaying and bouncing gently to not disturb her.
Above her, the scepter of Primo Stella freezes into a straight vertical. The magical knot brightens into a blinding white light, essentially becoming the North Star of Teyvat.
Meanwhile, the Outlander glows in the same intense radiance. Her long wavy hair is swept and blown by the whirlwinds, exposing her back. The familiar sigil, a tattoo that bound her soul to Primo Stella, emits an iridescent aura. Ribbon wings sprout from her shoulder blades, unfurling just as her eyes snapped open. However, this time, the whiteness of her sclera has completely taken over them without restraint.
Much like the three wolfdogs, her eyes produced mystic tails along fluttering lashes.
『 はさてかなえ くたまえ 』
As the relic descended, Solstice caught it again with her left hand.
She repeats the series of pirouettes that had once been done, but now in reverse. What once gathered are now implored to scatter. Petals of the aquatic blossom steady into seven colors, an act of division from the immaculacy that is The Divine Light. These colors segregated as rays that burst forth to their respective directions. They head towards the Mortal Realm, where they shone upon a particular territory as if to proclaim it their birthright.
These lands react intriguingly to their presence, as if the raw elements embrace them.
It is a homecoming for new life.
Solstice nears the denouement of her performance, as does the hymn. She smoothly guides the polearm before her chest level. Both of her hands once again held the staff, horizontally as if she were entrusting it to another. A foot kicks up to step forward yet a little to the side, and her arms motioned as if to come hither. She kicks up her other foot to adjust her position, now facing sideways when her heels click into place at rest.
Then, in nigh slow motion, her hands tilt the staff downwards. The stance is somewhat reminiscent of a swordsman about to sheathe his sword into its scabbard.
Teyvat waits in anticipation.
The relic touches the hibiscus flower.
The seven lights are cut from its petals—from the original brilliance that had birthed them. Waves of the aurora borealis seem to flail in lively, jubilant celebration. These rays of light glided towards their destinations, blessed by The Creator's fayth.
Although having parted from The Divine Light, each produced a resplendence uniquely their own—and upon the territories of the Mortal Realm where they shone...
...seven draconic lords are born.
They emerge from the lands coated in raw elemental essence, saturating their designated birthplace.
As Their Esteemed Holiness smiled, the roars of Their newborn creations echoed across the realms of Teyvat.
These are the Seven Sovereigns.
『 Yet forget not thyself when done. 』
© intothegenshinworld || © starlight anon . Do not copy, repost, translate or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thanks for reading.
#constellation genesis#sagau#yaepublishinghouse#sagau cult au#sagau creator#genshin#genshin impact#sagau aether#Aether#sagau lumine#Lumine#CH1 || The Legend of a Creator#ACT I: The Divine Sovereignty of Gods
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Grailfinders #342: Konstantinos XI
today on Grailfinders we’ve got an actual leader of one of Traum’s many realms, it’s Konstantinos XI. I love that one, can’t wait for Rhapsodies of Vana’diel to come out. all jokes aside, Constantine is a Crown Paladin to give his all for his empire, and a Clockwork Sorcerer to use his imperial bloodline to protect it as best he can.
check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!
next up: the rule of cool, part two! …l
Ancestry & Background
our boy Connie is a Human, but a special human that can defend stuff better than most humans, so he’s got a Mark of the Sentinel on him. that means he gets +2 Constitution and +1 Wisdom, as well as a Sentinel’s Intuition for a bonus d4 on all insight and perception checks. you can also cast a Guardian’s Shield once a day for free, which is literally just the shield spell, and you have an extended spell list which we’ve included in the character sheet- the spells we’d find useful are in bold. finally, you’re a Vigilant Guardian, letting you swap places with someone who is being attacked next to you, taking the damage in their stead, once a day.
you’re also a Noble, so you get proficiency in History and Persuasion.
Ability Scores
first up, you gotta have Constitution- it helps you not die. I mean you definitely do die, but I promise you it’ll take a while, and hurt the whole time. second is Charisma. again, you’re going to die, but god damn if you don’t look cool doing it. third is Strength bc you still have to wield big swords when you don’t have help. that means your Wisdom is a little lower than I’d like what with your religiocity, and that means your Dexterity is neutral. you wear armor all the time, so I have nothing to go off of here. that means we’re dumping Intelligence. I’m sure Constantine is pretty smart, but we need something to be weak.
Class Levels
1. Paladin 1: starting at level one, paladins get proficiency in Wisdom and Charisma saves, as well as Athletics checks to outlast errybody, and religion, to crusade as a hobby. you also get a divine sense to detect otherworldly enemies. you could always do this, it just never came up irl.
also you can Lay on Hands to touch people and heal them a lil bit. this is even less in-character, but hey, extra survivability.
2. Paladin 2: second level paladins get a Fighting Style, like Great Weapon Fighting. if you’re using a two-handed melee weapon, you can re-roll damage dice that land on 1 or 2 the first time. you could also argue for dueling if you want, but paladins will definitely get more use out of the former. and that’s because you can dump extra dice into your attacks with a Divine Smite, spending a spell slot to add radiant damage to your sword. what spell slots, you ask? well…
you can cast Spells now! you cast and prepare them using your Charisma, and that means you can swap them around each day, so don’t worry too much about specifics! that being said, I’d recommend picking up Bless to improve everyone’s saving throws! if you wanna help with attacks more, you can grant yourself divine favor, for a lil bonus damage with every hit for a minute.
3. Paladin 3: at third level you dedicate yourself to the Crown, which sounds noble, but since you’re the ruler you’re dedicating your life to yourself, which is pretty average tbh. still, you can use Channel Divinity once a short rest in one of two ways- you can issue a Champion Challenge to force nearby creatures to stay nearby until you get ko’d or bored, or you can Turn the Tide and give a couple bloodied allies some HP back. it’s not a lot of HP though so I expect the former will be used more. (though the latter could be used to revive a ton of people in one go.) if there’s only one person you’re worried about, you could use your freebie spell Compelled Duel instead to force them to fight you as long as you only fight them. it’s always prepared now bc you’re a crown paladin, as is Command if you want to act like an emperor sometime.
you also have Divine Health so you don’t get sick anymore unless the plot demands it.
4. Paladin 4: at level four, you get your first Ability Score Improvement! that improves your ability scores, like Strength and Constitution, rounding both of those up for more powerful swordery and less powerful death scenes. yeah you can make those look cool, but like, you can only do it once.
5. Paladin 5: fifth level paladins get an Extra Attack each attack action, so now you can combo a bit. you also get second level spells, including your freebies Warding Bond and Zone of Truth. we don’t really need the latter, but the former gives us a way to eat damage for another ally, further cementing our place as a tanky boi.
if you’re looking for other spells, Find Steed makes you. y’know, a rider? and Magic Weapon gives you a little crit boost by adding +1 to all your attack and damage rolls. also you can use aid to heal without “healing” since Constantine doesn’t have any healing in his kit. it’s not “in” character, but it’s not “out” of character either.
6. Paladin 6: at sixth level you exude an Aura of Protection, adding your charisma bonus to everyone’s saves, as long as they’re within 10’ of you. you could argue this is a “wall” of sorts, but one wall a city does not make, so let’s keep building.
7. Paladin 7: seventh level paladins become even more annoying to fight if they’re pledged to a crown, since they specifically can use Divine Allegiance as a reaction to take the damage intended for someone next to you. this is why we grabbed all that constitution earlier.
8. Sorcerer 1: but why take damage at all when you can just build more walls? admittedly we don’t get any of those right away, but as a Clockwork sorcerer we do get access to some nice Spells that also use your Charisma. (tho the spell slot rules get a little weird at this point so check your phb for how many you’ve got!) Green-Flame Blade is basically a paladin smite but spread to two people, while Sword Burst goes even further and hits everyone around you. you also get Light because what self-respecting servant doesn’t glow in the dark on command, and you also get Thunderclap for a lightweight siege weapon. in the same vein, you can use first level spells like Catapult to throw literal siege weapons around. if they’re less than 5 lbs, anyway. (it’s mostly just summoned dudes throwing bombs anyways, so it tracks.) though you can up the weight limit by upcasting it. you can also get one half of dropping boiling oil on people with the Grease spell.
you also get Alarm and Protection from Evil & Good for free, though the bigger boon for this build is your ability to Restore Balance as a reaction, negating any kind of advantage or disadvantage affecting one kind of d20 roll, up to proficiency times a day.
9. Sorcerer 2: second level sorcerers get a Font of Magic, which basically gives them an extra spell slot right now. I will say you get your level in sorcery points each day, but that doesn’t mean much beyond the one spell right now.
you can also mess up attacks more thanks to grabbing Silvery Barbs! now you can basically force someone to roll at disadvantage even if you use restore balance, and if this causes the attacker to fail, you can give an ally advantage on their next attack!
10. Sorcerer 3: third level sorcerers can use Metamagic, spending sorcery points to alter their spells. if you’re chucking catapult materiel in melee range, you probably want to pick up Careful spells to ensure any allies caught in the crossfire can make their saves. or you can make your spells have the range of real catapults with the Distant spell metamagic, doubling its range.
speaking of siege weapons, you can make a battering ram now with Knock, letting you force open any door in your way, so long as you’re cool with a big freakin’ noise. you also get the freebies Aid and Lesser Restoration. we already talked about aid, but that means you can free up another prep slot from your paladin spell lists.
11. Sorcerer 4: use this ASI to round up your Strength for more powerful attacks. you can also Message Chaldea if you’re in trouble, or use Shatter for a bigger catapult.
12. Sorcerer 5: fifth level sorcerers get Magical Guidance, so if you fail a skill check you can spend a sorcery point to reroll it. that’s what I call some imperial privilege! you also get a better bomb for your buds thanks to Fireball, plus the freebes Dispel Magic and Protection from Energy.
13. Sorcerer 6: sixth level clockwork souls can become a Bastion of Law, spending sorcery points to build a wall of magic around yourself or an ally, letting them reduce incoming damage by between 1-5d8 damage. the creature with the shield can choose when to use it, and it doesn’t even cost their reaction! you can use this as much as you want, through you can only have one bastion up at a time.
that being said, you can still protect yourself… sometimes… with Blink. admittedly this is a big stretch, but having a fifty-fifty chance to move to the ethereal plane combos great with your champion’s challenge, giving you the classic combo of taunt and invincibility. why force six guys to fight you and stick around for them to do it?
14. Sorcerer 7: seventh level sorcerers get fourth level spells! we’re picking up Stoneskin for even more damage reduction, natch, but your freebies are actually pretty nice this time. Summon Construct is one of the only summons we can get, but at least you have a soldier to hold your greatsword now. you also get Freedom of Movement which prevents you from being tied up or paralyzed. Konstantinos doesn’t actually get any debuff resistance in-game, but it could come in handy.
15. Paladin 8: eighth level paladins get another ASI, so bump up that Charisma for stronger spells and auras.
16. Paladin 9: ninth level paladins get third level spells, including your freebies Aura of Vitality and Spirit Guardians. I can’t condone the former bc again, Constantine doesn’t get healing, but I guess you can use the latter to make some guards for the very short-term.
I’d still suggest picking some spells of your own, like Crusader’s Mantle to give every roman around you a damage bonus (though you don’t have to be so picky), and Magic Circle for another, albeit situational, way to gain a defensive advantage. I imagine you’ll have plenty of arguments with King Hassan, so having a spot to stand in where he can’t instantly kill you would be helpful.
17. Paladin 10: tenth level paladins exude an Aura of Courage, preventing you and anyone within 10’ of you from being frightened. convincing people to fight until they die is usually hard. this makes it easier.
18. Paladin 11: at our last level of paladin you get an Improved Divine Smite, making every attack you land a little more holy. and by that, I mean they all do a touch of radiant damage to throw even more dice into the mix. everybody loves more dice.
19. Sorcerer 8: we’re not done with the build yet! easing back into sorcerer, we get one last ASI to turn you into an Inspiring Leader. you might not be able to heal that much, but temporary HP is still on the table, so long as you have ten minutes to spare for a rousing speech. this adds just over 20 temporary HP to up to six allies so everyone can stay in the fight a bit longer.
that being said there aren’t any more fourth level spells I want so… Tongues? I mean you’re christian, it tracks. you can talk to anyone and they can talk back, plus it’ll make Inspiring leader even better since it widens your options for health recipients.
20. Sorcerer 9: the real reason we were in sorcerer so long is because Constantine is a construction worker. his noble phantasm can make a wall, and while they’re a bit vague as to whether this is a literal wall or a figurative one, I tried to cover both, since you get Wall of Force for free and pick up Wall of Stone as a choice. the former is nigh-invincible, and nigh-invisible, preventing all damage and creatures from passing through for up to a minute, even spreading into the ethereal plane. if the wall goes up where someone’s standing, they’re forced harmlessly to one side or the other.
the latter can cover more space at the cost of being less durable, and creatures can escape being trapped by it with a saving throw. that being said, it can be used to make bridges, and will even become a real object in the world if you hold concentration the full ten minutes.
you also get Greater Restoration but that’s not why we’re here. s'free tho, so that's something!
Pros & Cons
Pros:
shockingly, the defensively oriented servant is good on defense, with powered-up saves, ways to prevent advantage on incoming attacks, and even the ability to build literal walls between you and whatever wants you dead. special shout-out to the Champion Challenge/Blink combo, letting you lock down the movement of several enemies and then just not be there for them to hit. thank goodness the former only cares about physical distance, not which dimension you’re in.
while you’re great at building up walls, you’re also good at letting people in and helping the party. with careful blasts to protect any squishy party members caught in your bombthrowing, infectious auras of positivity helping everyone stay alive, and your inspirational speeches adding plenty of health to your party’s total, you’re just as good at keeping the party going as you are keeping yourself alive.
while again the focus was on building walls, you’re also great at tearing them down, thanks to your literal and figurative burst damage. like all paladins you can pump up your damage with smites, but you also have spells like shatter and knock to break through the enemies’ defenses to boot.
Cons:
your first Con is literally your constitution! even with that stat as high as it is, being half-sorcerer brings your health total down to just “pretty good” for a frontline fighter- plus, focusing so hard on that meant both your attacks and your spells aren’t that powerful either. even with smites, your damage output might be a bit lackluster.
you’re also a bit picky when it comes to spells, since I didn’t want to grab anything with real healing available. paladins aren’t healing powerhouses like clerics, but ignoring healing altogether means that every fight you’re in is on a timer from the word go.
speaking of spells, you need those for smites and your best defensive options, so you’re burning the candle at both ends there. then again you also need them for sorcery points to get skill bonuses, so I guess it’s burning at… troth ends? whatever, you’re gonna run out of magic faster than you’d like.
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Class Feature Friday: Bones Mystery (Pathfinder Second Edition Oracle Mystery)
(art by Bogdan-MRK on DeviantArt)
And here we end off the week with another classic oracle mystery updated to Second Edition, this time being the Bones Mystery!
To many, oracles are the bridge between the material and spiritual worlds, though exactly what they do with that bridge depends on the individual and in part the deity or deities passing out these blessings. Some might follow Pharasma and/or other guardian deities of death, while others might be devotees of death-dealing gods, while others may in fact be empowered by darker deathly forces such as daemons or the deities of undeath.
Either way, these beings demonstrate fearsome and frightful power with the motifs of death, which all mortals must face one day. Some may use this deathly power to strike fear into the living or destroy the undead, while others may use it to create undead servants and twist death into a monstrous thing.
Regardless, many probably view these oracles as unnerving necessary evils at best, while others may revile them as they would any necromancer, especially with the way that these mystics tread the edge of life and death even more so than most other necromancers, hallowed or otherwise. Indeed, the fact that their curse causes them to look like an undead creature is a horrifying, though powerful, aesthetic choice.
With their dual connection to life and death, these oracles can draw upon that connection to choose to be healed by negative energy or positive energy each day, though if they are already undead they may instead empower their vitality to better resist being destroyed.
The basic magic of this mystery allows them to unleash a touch of negative energy to harm the living or weaken the undead, and another spell that allows them to drain vitality from a foe to bolster their own.
The two domains associated with this mystery are unsurprisingly the death and undeath, though the latter likely doesn’t see use with the oracles associated with psychopomps and the deities that call upon them. Either way, the former gives them the ability to gain vitality from slain foes, while the latter harms the living.
The greater revelation spells allow them to harden their bodies to resemble bone, as well as take control of undead foes.
They can also gain the advanced magic of their domains as well, the death domain either destroying undead or granting a surge of renewal whenever you regain consciousness, while the undeath domain grants a spell to bolster undead.
Those blessed with this mystery, however, are marked by death. At first, this only manifests as minor things like the smell of earth or unnaturally cold skin, but the more they tap into their revelations without resting, the more their body rots around them, becoming partially skeletal as they become weaker in some ways, but resistant to things that the dead would ignore.
While there are no oracle feats exclusive to this mystery, as full casters with access to necromancy spells and rituals, bone oracles have access to the Undying Conviction, Necromancer’s Visage, and Sepulchral Sublimation feats if you wanna go the true necromancer route.
However, while there are no feats specifically for the Bones mystery, there are those they might find useful, such as Reach Spell, Divine Aegis, Domain Acumen, Bespell Weapon, Divine Access, Prayer-touched Weapon, Vision of Weakness, Advanced Revelation, Detonating Spell, Spiritual Sense, Steady Spellcasting, Debilitating Dichotomy, Consecrate Spell, Surging Might, Domain Fluency, Greater Revelation, Forestall Curse, and Blaze of Revelation. However, other feats might suit you better, depending on the build.
This oracle mystery leans heavy into the necromancy side of things, so you can essentially build with one of two plans. Either the oracle will be an undead hunter, in which case you should lean into the specializing while diversifying to deal with other types of foes, or they could be a divine necromancer, and function similarly to a necromancy-focused cleric with differences based on the assumptions of the oracle class.
Death looks like different things to different cultures, and while this does apply to some extent with every class and character option, I do think it’s worth exploring those aesthetics when talking about a necromancer oracle. To some, death may be a cold, sterile thing, like the inside of a mausoleum, while to others, it may be a foul, filthy, rotting thing. Consider how that will affect the aesthetic and appearance of your oracle character, whether they wear bone talismans and the like on their person, or simply wear all black like a mourner, or something else.
In the halfling village of Skova, the funerary services are conducted by Old Kerb. Unlike others in the village, Kerb is kept at arm’s length, not out of a lack of hospitality, but rather, because the old mystic seems to have one foot in the grave already, particularly when using his power to put down those who do not rest peacefully.
Silva Endgazer is a name known to many in the Undercity, but few have ever seen. What is known is that she is a medusa and an oracle of bones with a lethal reputation, and rival gangs consider being turned into a statue by her gaze to be preferable to what might happen to their remains if they fall in battle to her.
The nation of Barbanas has a different relationship with necromancy than the familiar nations to the south. In those lands, necromancers are held in high esteem as negotiators with the dead, and the idea of animating a sapient soul against their will is unheard of. Bone oracles are particularly revered as those chosen by the gods for this role, and are often accompanied by various bodiless spirit that advise them and inhabit the bodies they animate.
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ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 241
Mujahada (Striving)
According to people of the heart, mujahada (striving) means doing what is required by having been endowed with will-power. It includes struggling against the carnal self and seeking ways to defeat it, always preferring to fulfill the religious obligations without neglecting even the secondary ones, when they clash with carnal appetites; never being satisfied with one’s worshipping, acts of obedience to God and doing good, yet being content with what is absolutely required for worship and obedience by way of disciplining one’s eating, drinking, sleeping and speaking.
Those having a certain degree of knowledge of God have always dealt with striving in two categories: one, the major or greater striving (jihad) and the other, the minor or lesser one. The former means struggling against the carnal self and Satan and striving to have a sound belief and to be endowed with virtues or good morals, being able to worship God well, and struggling against evil morals, bad habits and tempers, while the latter denotes being alert against and, when necessary, fighting the enemy. People who serve people with knowledge and thoughts, by imbibing and internalizing belief, the truths of Islam and the morality of Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings, and by representing them in their daily lives and conveying to others, encompass both kinds of striving, and therefore need to have the “endowment” necessary to fulfill both.
In every work or article written on austerity, communication of the Divine messages, and physical or minor striving (jihad), the subject is discussed in the light of relevant verses such as Strive in God’s way in the way that striving for His sake requires (22:78). Here we are interested in major striving.
Major jihad, or striving, in the language of Sufism, denotes that in the face of the mean impulses of the carnal self, the whisperings of Satan, and the excessive desires and pressures of the body or corporeality, we should demonstrate that we are beings endowed with will-power. We should also try to show due respect for the heavenly faculty that we have as human beings, which is a composition of our inner senses, our consciousness, perception, and heart. Jihad in this meaning is the greatest of all strivings, and one who performs it is great and esteemed in God’s sight; such a person is favored with His company. It can be said that it is more difficult to rebel against the impulses and desires of the carnal self and to lead a life in worshipping and performing other acts of obedience to God in piety, sincerity and abstinence in order to obtain God’s approval and good pleasure, than to fight against the enemy under a shower of bombs and shells at the front. It is because of such difficulties that God’s Messenger told the soldiers returning from fighting,Now you have turned from the minor jihad to the major one.[1] It was in this way that he instructed his Companions in such a vital matter. On another occasion, saying, A true fighter is one who fights against his carnal self for God’s sake,[2] he taught that the major or greater jihad consists in the struggles against Satan and the impulses of the carnal self.
While the minor striving can occasionally be necessary or compulsory, a believer must continuously fulfill the major one. In addition, success in the minor striving depends on success in the major one. For this reason, everyone must purify their inner world, so that they may acquire harmony and accord in all their acts-sitting, rising, thinking, speaking, working, etc.-doing these for the sake of God. It is only by success in this striving that one can be supported by God’s Will, which is the real factor in making human endeavors on God’s way beneficial and fruitful.
For those whom belief has not guided to an appointed goal, who have not disciplined themselves with Islamic principles of spiritual training, who have not deepened in doing good consciously so that God sees them, who cannot lead a life of unwavering sincerity nor live in the consciousness of God’s constant supervision, it is not possible to be people of the truth; they cannot restore rights nor display coherent attitudes in social relations. Those imprisoned in the cycle of eating, drinking, and sleeping can neither keep their corporeality under control nor direct their spirits to lofty ideals for spiritual victories nor keep the doors of their consciousness open to God to be rewarded with His company. What is most impossible for them is to free themselves from hatred, rancor, and other malicious feelings in order to embrace all existence only because of God.
A perfect society can only be made up of perfect individuals, and an individual cannot be perfected without spiritual training. It is therefore useless to try to build a sound community with individuals who suffer from mental and spiritual shortcomings. The perfect individuals needed to compose a perfect community are shaped in the crucible of striving.
Such a striving is based on controlling carnal desires and impulses and on having an operative mechanism of conscience. A spiritual journey is the safest way of striving. Concerning what a mortal enemy the carnal self is, Hakim al-Busiri[3] says:
How many lethal delights there are that the carnal self presents to humankind as pleasant;
Almost no one has ever been able to perceive that it presents poison within the butter.
It would be appropriate to end this section with a poem by Hüda’i,[4] which is regarded as a bridge to the spiritual journey:
O carnal self! Give up your many mistakes and errors,
Relent and be just and fair from now on!
Abandon cherishing these long-term ambitions,
Relent and be just and fair from now on!
Why do you have these habits and innovations?
Why such fondness for fame and adornment?
Why expend so much effort that way?
Relent and be just and fair from now on!
One day the wind of death will blow,
To ruin the garden of the body;
So fulfill your obligations in sincerity;
Relent and be just and fair from now on!
Do not be obstinate, O Huda’i!
Submit yourself to Divine orders.
Come and mention the Master,
Relent and be just and fair from now on!
O God, we ask You for forgiveness, health, and Your approval, favors, friendship, and nearness to You.
And let God’s blessings be on our master Muhammad, the master of those made near to You, and Your beloved one and Messenger, and on his family and Companions, who had great yearning to meet with You.
[1] Hatib al-Baghdadi, Tarikh al-Baghdad, 13:523.
[2] Al-Tirmidhi, “Fada’il al-Jihad,” 2.
[3] Muhammad ibn Sa’id al-Busiri (1211-1295) was an Egyptian saintly scholar, calligrapher and poet. He has poems in which he expressed his deep love for the Messenger and his Companions.
[4] Huda’i was the father of Shahidi Ibrahim (see, footnote: 121). He was from Mughla in the western Turkey and lived in the 15th century. He belonged to the Mawlawi Order. (Trans.)
#allah#god#islam#muslim#quran#revert#convert#convert islam#revert islam#revert help#revert help team#help#islamhelp#converthelp#how to convert to islam#convert to islam#welcome to islam
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DCA Info Part 30: Meet Rozeline Pierrette 📚
Rozeline Pierrette (ロゼライン・ピエレット, Rozerain Pieretto) is the dorm leader of Chateau Beastiale. She has gifts for inventing and alchemy as well as being renowned for her novels, playwrights and songs. But she appears to have a dark secret.
History
Rozeline is the daughter of Fabien Maury Pierrette. The whereabouts of where she was born are unknown. However, she and her father moved to the Land of Pyroxene when she was really young.
Little is known about Rozeline's upbringing but what is known is that an incident at her former school traumatized her greatly. So much so that her father pulled her out of the academy and having her be homeschooled instead by Baptiste Gallois instead.
At some point during her childhood, she met and was befriended by Ashton Vargas, who became a close family friend of her's. When Diamond Crown Academy's carriage arrived to have her enrolled, Vargas congratulated her by gifting her a book which was actually a case that contained a taser and pepper spray.
Personality
While Rozeline is wise and knowledgeable, she tends to keep to herself and dislikes it when men enter her personal space.
Rozeline despises her unique magic as she considers it more of a curse than a blessing and she thinks that it makes her intimidating and fears that people will call her a monster if they saw her use it.
Appearance
Rozeline is a young woman of average height in her late teens. She has short brown and white hair, with the latter portion taking the shape of a curl. She also possesses grayish brown eyes.
2020 School Uniform
Originally, Rozeline wore a gold colored dress with the top portion having pieces that bear resemblance to parts on the bodice of Belle's iconic gold ballgown. The bodice itself has long sleeves, red jewel buttons, a red ruffle bow with floral patterns on the right strap, and red ruffle fabric on the neckline with gold trim. The dress' skirt features an argyle pattern and has a gold strap near the bottom that features floral rose patterns as well as gold ruffle trimming. The skirt also features a red overskirt with three red roses and a gold pearl bead strand. Rozeline also wears brownish gray pantyhose. For footwear, Rozeline wears a pair of black and white ankle boots with gold trim and soles and red ribbons with black trim and maroon gem brooches.
Rozeline accessorizes with a hairpiece that consists of a pair of red roses, a gold crown attached to a pair of brown ram like horns, and an amber gem brooch attached to gold pearls. Other accessories include a necklace that features a gold bow with a red rose with Rozeline's brooch attached and a gold ring on her right middle finger.
2021 School Uniform
Now with a more preppy look, Rozeline wears a white lacy dress shirt with gold buttons and is worn underneath a pale yellow and blue blazer, with the blue portions having floral patterns that feature roses and thorns and the blazer features gold buttons, trim and chain attached to a pair of Rose shaped buttons. She also wears a tan tartan skirt with a lace petticoat and gray pantyhose. The footwear now consists of a pair of loafer black heels with red bows and white lace.
Rozeline's crown is now bronze in color and the pearl strands from her hairpiece and necklace have been romoved.
School Statistics
Rozeline is an 18 year old 3rd year student. She is classified as Student #8 and is in Class 3-E. She is a member of the Magical Artworks Club and her best subject is Ancient Rune Reading, it is also her favorite school subject because she's very interested in deciphering ancient runes. Her least favorite school subject is Martial Arts because she isn't the most athletic and she relies too much on magic.
For her idol performances, Rozeline has a voice fit for classical songs. She can't do very high pitches and if she attempts to do so she ends up cracking her voice.
For her choreography, Rozeline's dance is a mix of ballet and waltz. She is more of a elegant dancer that resembles a swan, although she isn't against doing a more energetic dance routine.
Relationships
Family
Rozeline has a very close relationship with her father. Fabien is a doting father, loves his daughter dearly and is very protective of her.
Confidants
Rozeline has a private tutor known as Baptiste Gallois. He’s a bit strict but he just wants a student to excel because he believes that knowledge is the way to assure a good future. Rozeline gave him a pocket watch when he announced that she was almost done with her studies, he takes good care of it.
Pet
Rozeline has a sun bear named Palmiers. She found her in her house one day eating the freshly made palmiers she baked for her father. Sun bears are known to be aggressive and territorial but for some reason, she has clung to Rozeline like a chick. Though the sun bear is known to be aggressive, she won't attack the other students unless they were trespassers. Those who go to the dorm need to bring palmiers, honey or berries to enter. She'll assume they're trespassing if they don't, Rozeline put out a sign needing to confirm what you need to bring for the safety of those visiting.
Fellow Students
Rozeline doesn't appear to interact with her fellow students but is known to write books about Allison's shenanigans.
Night Raven College Students
Rozeline often interacts with Jack and Rook flirts with her on occasion.
Night Raven College Staff
Ashton Vargas is a close family friend of Rozeline. Initially, Rozeline was intimidated by how large the man was but quickly changed her view on him after he was very friendly with her and her dad. The two families were often seen sharing stories and asking about how their days have been. Vargas is as protective of Rozeline as her father is and keeps him updated on her activities at school.
Romance
Rozeline desires to be with someone who understands and can help her not be afraid of her unique magic. She doesn't mind if they are average or not in the knowledge department, she wants someone who she trusts won't be afraid of her.
Powers and Abilities
• Magic: Much like her fellow students, Rozeline can use magic.
• Painting: Rozeline is skilled at painting, she even paints surreal horror in her free time.
• Memory Recollection: Rozeline is said to have excellent memory recollection, being able to recall books she's read and the details within them.
• Alchemy: Rozeline is said to be good at inventing her own chemistry sets as well as brewing potions.
• Tinkering: Rozeline is skilled at inventing and repairing machines and other items. She even repairs the talking furniture in Chateau Beastiale's dorm living quarters.
Unique Magic
Rozeline's unique magic is called "Thorn Beast" (とげのある獣の怒り/ソーン・ビースト, Sōn Bīsuto; lit. "Wrath of the Thorned Beast"). She can create a huge, hulking monster made of thorns to aid her in fight if there was one, she can also make smaller versions of it.
But she mostly manipulates a thorn vine so that everyone would assume she can manipulate vines instead. She despises using her unique magic and considers it as more of a curse rather than a blessing.
Voice
According to her bio, Rozeline would be voiced by Akira Sekine, known for her role as Miyabi Fujiwara from Aikatsu!.
Trivia
• Her birthday is on May 6th, making her a Gemini.
• She is 173 cm tall.
• Her favorite food is Cheese Souffle while her least favorite food is Foie Gras. She dislikes faulty invention projects.
• She enjoys painting surreal horror.
• Her preferred Styling Jewel Outfit Styles are Classical and Gothic.
• For her casual attire, Rozeline would mostly wear preppy clothes with plaid or checkered patterns.
• Her favorite colors are beige and faded gold.
• She is dubbed "Little Sea Turtle" (ウミガメちゃん, Umigame-chan) by Floyd due to sea turtles being lonesome much like her. She shares this nickname with Trey.
• In her spare time, Rozeline likes reading books and joining fandoms related to her favorite genres.
• In the case of Rozeline Overbloting, someone sees her Unique Magic that she tries so hard not to show and it makes her so fearful that she overblots.
• Due to her love of books, Rozeline would be a book conservator in the future.
• Rozeline’s dessert of choice are dark chocolate based desserts.
• Rozeline would smell of book paper and ink.
• Her signature scent would be the scent of ink and old books.
• Rozeline fears that people will find out about her powers and would start calling her a monster.
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Some notes on my au/Slenderbros headcanons
The Operator and Slenderman are two separate entities. They're both eldritch horrors, but the Operator is far more malevolent and nasty, going out of his way to torment people until they eventually break and "transform" into his proxies. Whereas Slender is just kinda vibing.
The Operator, Slenderman, Trenderman, Splendorman, and Offenderman are all part of the same "species," whatever the hell that may be, but are not brothers. The latter four collaborate with each other on occasion and won't correct you if you do mistakenly refer to them as "brothers," but they will be incredibly offended if you associate them with the Operator. They cannot stand him and the feeling is mutual.
The quartet, while still being powerful, are all far weaker than the Operator as well. The Operator feeds off of negative energy which he sows by stalking and torturing his victims - which can be adults or even children, he isn't picky - and reaps by either "proxifying" the strong ones or slaughtering and eating the weak ones. Viciously. This greatly disturbs and even disgusts them.
So they're not senseless killers by any means, but they're not exactly morally upstanding either (except for maybe Trender). Slender has an entire mansion dedicated to housing and protecting lone killers, monsters and poltergeists. The Human Realm and the Monster Realm are incompatible with each other in his eyes, and he wants to give them a place to call home now that they have "rejected their humanity." He won't outright harm them himself, but he absolutely won't hesitate to ban anyone who disturbs the peace. When it comes to outsiders, however, he can get... violent. He'll just scare off any curious human who gets too close without physically hurting them, but anyone with foul intentions will be disposed of immediately. There's a reason the SCP Foundation hasn't been able to lay a hand on him.
Trender is an odd case, an outcast even among his "brothers." He fully embraces his humanity and is infatuated with human culture and behavior. In fact, most of his time is spent in the Human Realm in a more, shall we say socially acceptable form. He loves his brothers dearly, but unfortunately due to their limited emotional capacity, the feeling cannot be fully returned, although Splendor tries, at least.
Speaking of which... Splendor is a guardian entity of sorts with the sole purpose of protecting children. He has a unique ability that essentially "blesses" any child he comes in contact with. If a deathly sick child is suddenly cured, or if a depressed child is somehow happy and smiley out of seemingly nowhere, you can safely bet that they have been visited by Splendor. On the flip side, he is the most brutal and violent out of the four, and won't think twice to tear apart anyone or anything who dares harm a child. That being said, he absolutely despises Laughing Jack and Mr. Widemouth, and is the reason why Candle Cove eventually went off the air, although how he managed to accomplish this is still unknown.
(Let me get one thing straight. This is a fandom built around horror, gore, and topics that generally make one uncomfortable. However, there are some lines I just won't cross, and SA is one of them. So, here's my version of Offender.)
Like Trender, Offender is also one who indulges in the luxuries of the Human Realm, but unlike the former, he never sticks around. He is, for lack of a better word, a "player." He lives for passion and debauchery, and sees no reason to waste his endless years cooped up in a mansion or babysitting children all day. Every night is filled with drinking, gambling, and sex with any woman who is interested, in some cases (well, many cases) more than one at once. In his opinion, women are the best thing humanity has to offer. He is not a predator, though. It's unknown how the unfortunate nickname was bestowed upon him, but he hates it with a passion. Why would he force himself on someone when their enthusiastic consent and eagerness for him is part of how fucking sexy they are? Anyways, don't think that makes him an saint. He'll still leave the second the sun begins to rise. Commitment isn't exactly his forte.
#creepypasta#au#headcanons#the operator#slenderman#slenderverse#splendorman#trenderman#offenderman#i feel like i'm just gonna be yelling into the void#but my creepypasta brain cell just fired up and i'm gonna make it everyone's problem
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WYNONNA: “Out already? Didn't even have time to send flowers.”
BUNNY LOBLAW: “It was just a fancy faint.”
WYNONNA: “Yeah, the cat made a bed in your ass crack.”
BUNNY LOBLAW: “The doctor said I'm fine. I'm as healthy as an ox.”
WYNONNA: “With the cankles to match.”
BUNNY LOBLAW: “Listen. I am just here to tell Officer Haught that despite the day's events, she will not be getting my support.”
WYNONNA: “She saved your life, you incorrigible bitch.”
BUNNY LOBLAW: “Perhaps. But she does not belong here in Purgatory. She is not our... people.”
WYNONNA: “Are you a xenophobe or a homophobe?”
BUNNY LOBLAW: “Why pick just one?”
WYNONNA: “Even though it was against her best interest, Nicole did the right thing. She always does the right thing, no matter what. That's the kind of person who should be Sheriff.”
BUNNY LOBLAW: “I'll keep that in mind.”
WYNONNA: “No. Bunny... shouldn't we talk about what really happened today? What's really got your pearls all twisted?”
BUNNY LOBLAW: “I don't know what you're talking about.”
WYNONNA: “What you saw. Because you saw something, didn't you, Bun Bun?”
BUNNY LOBLAW: “It was just a dream, a terrible dream. Like the one where I'm on the cruise ship with all the shirtless... Portuguese sailors.”
WYNONNA: “Okay, there's a lot to unpack there. But no... you weren't dreaming. See, you think you want to know the things Nedley's been keeping secret. You don't. That monster you saw today, it's just... the tip of the iceberg.”
BUNNY LOBLAW: “Iceberg?”
WYNONNA: “If you don't back Nicole for Sheriff, I am sending that monster and all of his demon friends... to your house.”
BUNNY LOBLAW: “You can't and you won't.”
WYNONNA: “Oh, bless your cold, withered heart. You think you could handle another "fancy faint"? Then Nicole Haught's gonna be the next Sheriff. Okay? Have a lovely day.”
BUNNY LOBLAW: “I need to get to church.”
WYNONNA: “You gotta book yourself that cruise.
*she turns around to see Nicole stood at the doorway*
How long have you been listening?”
NICOLE: “It would've been rude to interrupt.”
WYNONNA: “Naughty Haughty.”
NICOLE: “How's your head? Because... I feel like I can hear space and time. Hair of the dog?”
*opens two bottles of alcohol, hands one to Wynonna*
WYNONNA: “Officer Haught. At work?”
NICOLE: “Well, some rules are made to be broken.”
WYNONNA: “Huh. Maybe you would be a good wife.”
NICOLE: “Ah, thank you. But you're not my type. You cheat at drinking games.
*they laugh and Nicole holds out her bottle*
Truce?”
WYNONNA: “More than a truce. A win.
*they clink bottles*
You know, I used to think you were an outsider too. And that things would get too demony and you would... go and leave my sister with a broken heart.”
NICOLE: “Wynonna, I love her.”
WYNONNA: “Ew.
*smiles*
Also, you better.”
NICOLE: “And I love you, too. I mean, I know it's terribly unfair and sometimes I really get... jealous, because you get to be...”
WYNONNA: “Get to be what?”
NICOLE: “You.”
WYNONNA: “You know, you're staked to this land, same as me. You never had a choice.”
NICOLE: “What do you mean?”
WYNONNA: “It wasn't Black Badge who saved you from the Cult of Bulshar massacre, Nicole. It was an idealistic local cop.”
*pulls out a photograph of a younger Sheriff Nedley with his arm around a young girl - Nicole as a child*
I’ve said it before. While I really do not like that they had to blackmail Bunny to back Nicole for Sheriff when Bunny shouldn’t even be a part of what they do because she’s a discriminative asshole, I understand that it’s in character for Wynonna to do that for someone she cares about and will defend. So the sentiment of the latter outweighs the former. She could have just let Bunny make the remarks she did and sent her on her way, letting her believe whatever she wanted. But no, she layed into her because she knew that Nicole deserves to be Sheriff next election. And the fact Nicole was stood there watching the whole exchange and never made a move to intervene shows how much she appreciates the support from Wynonna even if that support was a threat towards Bunny and could land them in even more trouble.
It matters. It’s not something I would think of to do myself, but it matters because it’s Wynonna and Wynonna always does the crazy thing for love. Nicole understands that and knows this is just Wynonna’s way of helping her. So she doesn’t stop her and instead just lets her potentially create more chaos.
They’ll cross that bridge when they come to it.
If it comes to it.
Then there’s the other part to this conversation where they sit and drink and relate to each other, and Wynonna reveals that while she is cursed to stay in Purgatory to fight Wyatt’s revenant demons, Nicole also had no real choice about who she would end up becoming in Purgatory either. Meaning it’s not just because she’s dating Waverly why she’s in the show. And I really love that they included that because it simultaneously gives Nicole purpose as her own character within her own individual arc and gives her representation and development beyond just being a love interest but also tells us that she always was - is - meant to be with Waverly and as part of the team because she has ties to the supernatural life too that she can’t just leave behind because she’s “abnormal”.
Combined with the former scene and conversation - this is the creator and cast/crew basically telling us that being “abnormal” or an “outsider” isn’t something we ever choose to be. It chooses us. The only thing we choose is to accept and embrace it…
Or not.
Maybe it’s just me reading into the narratives and themes a bit more than I should with this episode but I think it’s clever that the writers combined a narrative about being unlucky and having to work through the hardships of that with someone else we don’t always have common ground with and a narrative about acceptance and support from that someone when we’re being discriminated against for being too “different” to belong in a place we had no real choice to be part of the social community of in the first place.
We get the hand that we are dealt and we deal with it because that’s the only thing we really can do to survive somewhere non-inclusive. And if we happen to find people within that social community that are just as much of an “outsider” as we are even if they were born and bred in it then we are lucky and we are worthy and we do deserve to be treated with respect no matter how “not our people” we are perceived as.
And this is how I interpret this episode and these couple of scenes. It might not be the intention. I could be entirely wrong about what the writer intends it to represent. But I’ve never been one for canon anyway.
I’ve always made up my own lore and narrative when watching TV art/entertainment and I really miss show creators that accepted and encouraged this and gave you enough room to interpret any of it any which way you want and choose so that it could be so much more meaningful to you each time you engaged with it. I didn’t think TV shows like this existed anymore. But I’ve been pleasantly and gratefully surprised with ‘Wynonna Earp’ and other stuff I’ve recently watched.
I hope that streak continues when I watch Arcane. Shows that put the storytelling first have my heart even if I might be entirely wrong what story that is. It doesn’t really matter because I don’t deal in canon. I never have and I never will. That’s how I watch shows.
Art is and should be in the eye of the beholder always.
#wynonna earp#i fall to pieces#melanie scrofano#nicole haught#katherine barrell#bunny loblaw#jann arden#descrimination#belonging#support#acceptance#homophobia#xenophobia#character representation#character development
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Winter's Respite
He breathed in deep, relishing the sting of winter seeping through the cracked window. It was Antonin’s favourite season and a reminder of his homeland. The period of stillness when a white gown covered the valleys and dips of the earth was meant to both protect and rejuvenate. Why else did the bears take to their caves to sleep the months away? Perhaps a part of that instinct was rooted in Antonin, as well. With the cold came the time to bunker down, to recover, to plan.
Their reintroduction had brought with it a blinding light that pierced the grey skies he both loved and used as cover. She was unrelenting in her presence, Hermione Granger. She represented change. She was an unstoppable force of nature. She warmed the ice of his heart, starting with a gradual melt that quickly accelerated into entire sections breaking off to reveal the soil beneath.
Was it any wonder that he pushed away from the impending spring? He didn’t think himself ready for seeds to take root and break past the surface, for verdure pastures to replace what was once an unbroken vista of snow. He wanted to burrow deep in the safety of his cave. Spring could wait.
Except, nobody had told her that. She was done with living off of reserves, long since stretched thin and in need for more. She barrelled straight past Antonin’s barriers and blasted him full on with her presence.
She knew he wanted her, and desperately, just like she knew that he was still too ashamed of their past to allow himself respite. She reeled him in with her clever tongue. She preyed on his need for competition and accomplishment. She wasn’t above dirtier tactics, like rewarding him with more knowledge and physical affection. He hadn’t been with a woman for years, and each brush of her shoulder against his, a hand atop his own, a seemingly innocent push of his hair back from his face reminded him of his maleness, of the hunger that lurked beneath and thirsted and hungered and howled for her body beneath his, her lips whispering over the hollow of his throat, his cock inside the deepest parts of her and claiming her as his.
“Antonin?”
Speak of the witch.
Hands much smaller than his own slipped around his hips from behind to pull him flush against her body. Fingers roamed the hard planes of his torso over the thin Henley he’d thrown on before coming to a stand by the window to survey the vista just outside. She pressed a kiss to his back.
“Is everything alright?” she asked.
He twisted around, taking care to keep her close. He wanted to feel her arms around him as much as he wanted to return the gesture. Antonin traced the fine features of her face, eyes still drowsy from slumber, creases from their sheets still marking her cheek. Her curls were a glorious mess, tumbling free from the neat braid she’d made the night before. He might have had a hand in that, not that she’d complain. Even now, he wanted to fist the cinnamon tresses and tug her even closer. Instead, he cupped her face in both hands, tilting her lips towards his own.
He tasted mint, inwardly grinning at her inability to approach him without first casting a breath freshening charm. He wouldn’t have cared, but she was a creature of habit, like him. He was beginning to equate mint with arousal, the latter almost always following the former. He’d never particularly cared for the herb prior to Hermione, but now he craved the sensation when delivered directly from her teasing tongue. If he was snow, glittering and silent, then she was a field of herbs that filled the expanse of his heart every other part of the year. Even when not in full bloom, she remained there, beneath the surface, closer than his own defences.
“I am now that you are here, little witch.”
Her smile was dazzling in its acceptance of him; he’d thought so from the first moment she bestowed it upon him. He swore now, just as he had then, that he would never take it for granted. She’d blessed him with a changing of seasons he’d long since forgotten in the everlasting dark that was his former life.
They fought, yes, and they bickered. Such was the way of two individuals as headstrong and passionate as they. Antonin wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Hermione brought a vibrancy to his life without which he could no longer live, not that he’d want to anymore. She’d changed him permanently, and he, her, physically and spiritually.
Sweeping her up in his arms was ridiculously easy. She was so much smaller than he, but no less fierce. She allowed him to lay her out on their bed and licked her lips as her eyes traced his figure from head to toe. Antonin paused his disrobing to flex, stretching his muscles for her appreciation.
“I need you,” she said. So soft. So willing. So greedy.
“You already have me,” he said back, moving forward on his knees to gently lift her legs and hips so she laid open before him. She smelled musky and sweet, a combination of him and her from the night prior; she smelled like a promise. She smelled like home. He leaned down to inhale deeply, savouring every part of her. “Hermione…”
When he filled her, it was only after hearing the music of her name on his lips and drinking deep from the fountain of her desire. She clamped down on him with the strength of a thousand suns, strong enough to crack through the frozen ice and melt it like it had never been there in the first place. When they bloomed, it was together and with a vibrancy of life that would not be denied.
WC 982
Cross-posted to Tumblr and AO3.
Written in response to the FB Dolohoes: Antonin Dolohov Supremacy monthly flashfic prompt: Verdure (noun) - greenness, especially of fresh, flourishing vegetation.
This turned out a lot more introspective than I had originally intended, but I ended up liking that in the end! I'm usually quick to throw these two delicious darlings into bed together after a smattering of verbal sparring, so it was a nice chance of pace.
#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter flashfic#antomione#hermione granger x antonin dolohov#hermione x antonin#hermione granger#antonin dolohov
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(Inspired by @seek--rest here )
So many movies and shows brag about how their characters marry their best friend. Or how their spouses are their best friend. Or how they-they-ugh. It just got more annoying the more she thought about it.
Because MJ wanted to get through school and go to the next school with her best friends Peter Parker and Ned Leeds.
But she was stuck because she was hopelessly in love with the former. And the latter knew about it, too.
They were all geniuses but somehow Peter was oblivious to one of his best friends being in love with him, and somehow she was dumb enough to fall as hard as she did for her best friend who would surely never reciprocate. And Ned got to be the main audience for it.
Bless Ned. He was wholly sympathetic to it, he wanted it to happen. He listened to her if she wanted to rant about him and even indulged her so she could mention to him how cute Peter looked that day. But in a way, he made her feel worse through no fault of his own because it was his two best friends in this weird dance, and she felt like she would make him choose her side or something. He’d told her more than once that would never be the case, but she also worried that what if her feelings caused the trio to break up, leaving Ned without anybody or one of them.
UGHHHH. She tore into her stress ball. Get back to work, she told herself. Peter can wait, but your paper can’t.
Then one of the absolute worst days MJ had experienced in a long time came - when she saw Peter making heart eyes at Liz.
“Too late, you guys are losers,” MJ snarked to him and Ned. She tried to keep the venom out of her voice, the sound of the shattering that was going on inside her chest from getting out of her mouth. Because she still couldn’t truly be mad at him, it wasn’t something she had a right to be upset with him about, after all.
But it still hurt.
MJ wanted to bury it, but some part of her wondered if that was healthy. But what would be the healthiest approach right now? Just move on and accept Peter would never like her back? She didn’t like that idea, even though Peter had never given her any indication he liked her. So she wouldn’t be losing anything if she moved on.
Still, something in MJ refused to let him go. Maybe it was spending most days with him, whether it was reading her book while he and Ned played video games, or whether they ate sandwiches with the bread smushed down real flat, or whether they studied together. Spending time with him made her so happy, but she was also in pain because she did want him in another way. But why wasn’t she happy with him being her best friend?
If there’s one thing MJ’s mind was, it was a mess of contradictions, roundabouts and detours. This possibility and that possibility. Much of it, however, was clouded by Peter.
And that simply wouldn’t do. She couldn’t let herself be so invested in a boy who didn’t even like her back. Even if he did make her happy.
So she decided that, if she couldn’t bring herself to move on from Peter, she needed to at least remember she had a life outside of Peter. Even if she wanted to spend her life with him- good God, get a grip, girl! It scared her how easily she could say and think things like that when she was just some chick in high school pining for some boy. Ugh!
So she devoted herself to her schoolwork. She worked hard to pull her weight on the AcDec team, enough to keep up with Liz, enough that facts were getting burned into her brain. She started looking at colleges early, far earlier than her peers, and what kind of career she maybe wanted. She tried to enjoy her time with her parents at home more than she already did, and her time with her best friends more. She kept things as casual as possible, and to be fair, Peter was so oblivious he wouldn’t notice a thing.
She had a whole life to live, she told herself. And it wouldn’t be defined by her best friend she was in love with. At least, that was the plan.
#spideychelle#michelle jones#zendaya#peter parker#mj#tom holland#tomdaya#spideychelle headcanon#zendaya coleman#michelle#peter parker x michelle jones#michelle jones x peter parker#incorrect spideychelle quotes#incorrect spider man homecoming quotes#peter x michelle#michelle x peter#incorrect sm:h quotes#incorrect spiderman quotes#spider man: homecoming#spideychelle is canon#spider man: far from home#spider man: no way home#no way home#far from home
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