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starlit-typewriter · 6 days

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Genshin SAGAU, Creator of Teyvat, but not Humanity Part 9

Here it is part 9!

Takes a peek at my writing doc. Yep uh, plot is beginning.

Also I've done the most recent Archon quest and uh, Wow.

I uh, didn't expect to cry that hard.

But very glad that my fic is still technically canon compliant. Literally counting down the versions till a lore drop breaks what I have built.

Warning for Spoilers up to Genshin Impact 3.6

Masterlist | Prev Part

~~~

Silver clouds float around lazily on a beautiful sparkling blue sky.

From beyond the billow of misted water, a spark shines.

It glows brighter.

And faster.

It shoots down towards the sky, breaking the sea of clouds, leaving a gaping hole from where it burst through.

The spark becomes a star, flickering from blue to a brilliant gold, leaving trails of light as it descends towards Teyvat.

As it approaches, it shrinks, becoming smaller, but no less powerful.

A targeted stream of light, of energy.

It approaches a city, a harbor.

You can feel the energy in the air, the hustle and bustle as humans galavant and frolic.

The sounds and smell of a festival, filled with raucous cheers and lively conversation.

The light ignores it all, heading straight towards a solitary figure.

A figure cloaked in brown and gold, strolling along the roads of this place.

A non human hiding in their midst.

They’re concealing their presence, but the light knows better.

It can feel their raw power and strength.

This is the one they were looking for.

It heads straight towards it, hitting their body with force, causing them to stumble in their tracks.

The light, no. The blessing burrows it’s way into this figure.

Mine

It purrs, settling inside their body, warming him from the inside, filling their body with power and energy.

All Mine

~~~

Your eyes snap open as you jerk out of your trance.

Morax was still sitting there, quietly.

Observing you with those eyes.

Those calm arrogant eyes.

You hate them, you hate them so much.

“Do you remember now,” he asks.

You clench your fist, fingernails digging into your skin.

You don’t want to believe him. On some level you still don’t.

However, you can’t deny that he has your power.

That he was gifted with your power.

Blessed

But you don’t know why.

The unfortunate truth, something that Morax no doubt knows, is that you don’t have all your memories.

Azhdaha’s sacrifice gave you some of your powers back, but it’s far from what you used to have.

You remember a time when you were powerful.

When you created mountains and oceans.

When you could create living beings with a single touch.

Well, not a single touch, but you could still do it.

You remember an era of peace, of dragons.

But it’s all gone.

Destroyed.

All because of them.

But you don’t know how.

You don’t know why.

The anger and grief wells up in your chest.

Your power responds accordingly, strumming under your skin, begging to be set free.

No,

You can’t.

Not now,

Not yet.

Later, you promise yourself.

Later, you will find out the truth and get your revenge.

~~~

“To the tales of the lyre, to the sweet dream of tonight!” A sweet melodious voice sang to the cheerful applause of the Angel’s Share patrons.

The teal figure bowed jauntily, waving his hat with a flourish.

Another successful night completed!

The bard in question skipped over to the bar, offering its red headed owner his most charming smile.

Alas his efforts were in vain as the Pyro wielder barely offered him a glance before going back to polishing glasses.

“Oh come on Master Diluc,” he weedled, offering his best puppy eyes. “Did my music not please your patrons ears, surely that deserves some complimentary beers”

“That’s exactly why I’m deducting some drinks from your tab,” He grumbled, “your unpaid tab, might I add.”

“In Angel’s Share I spend my time, in hopes of getting some dandelion wine,” he strummed, “Of varied notes, I sing so high, yet my sweet drink you so deny.”

“Let the bard drink,” Quinn cheered drunkenly, as did the rest of the tavern to Diluc’s chagrin.

The man tried to explain, only for the cheers and chants of the tavern to rise in volume, drowning his voice out.

Mondstatians and their alcohol.

The tavern owner turned around with the most unimpressed face known to mankind.

Venit would be intimidated, but unfortunately for Diluc, he is not a man and has seen much much more unimpressed faces over the years.

The two stared each other down, one smug and the other exasperated, all the while the tavern’s chanting rose.

With a defeated sigh, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt pours the bard a glass of dandelion wine.

The bard in question whoops in triumph. As does the rest of Angel’s Share as they celebrate his “Victory” with more drunken cheers and songs.

He knew the tavern owner wasn’t truly angry, exasperated and annoyed perhaps, but the man could never muster any real anger towards Venti.

A small bonus from him revealing his true identity of the Anemo Archon to him.

For all his tough words against the Knights of Favonious, he was still a Mondstatder through and through.

Whilst he did not have nearly as much presence in Mondstadt as the other nations did, and was proudly the weakest of them. The people of Mondstadt did not forget what he’s done for them and still recognize and worship him accordingly.

The wind spirit kicked his legs back and forth and he watched the redhead over the lip of his glass.

In terms of personality he really is nothing like his ancestor. Which makes sense of course, it’d be foolish to expect them to end up the same even though they have the same bloodline.

If anyone in Mondstadt were to have that title it would be the Acting Grandmaster.

Guiltily, he is glad that they differ.

To humans, gaining a vision is a great honor. Proof that their worth has been acknowledged by the gods.

He’s happy for them as well, whenever a Mondstater gains a vision.

But he won’t deny the seed of anxiety that sprouts in his heart as well.

Visions can make humans, gods among men.

But the world is made of more than just men.

Humans may be many but are comparatively weak in the grand scheme of things.

Although, having numbers is its own form of strength.

Perhaps he isn’t giving humans enough credit.

A lone human is weak, but a group of humans have a level of strength and fortitude that amazes even the gods.

He supposes that must be why the heavens protect them so.

Well, protect is a strong word.

They will do whatever it takes to ensure the continuation of humanity.

But they really won’t waste their time on individual humans.

Unless,

Well,

Visions are gifts for a reason.

Allogenes are rare, and are appropriately rewarded.

Not that visions are not a great boon.

He’s single handedly watched how visions save and change the lives of their wielders.

It’s simply what can come after.

It is extremely rare for an allogene to ascend to Celestia. That position is only reserved for the strongest of wills in all the lands.

Vanessa was one such will.

He knew it the moment he laid eyes on her.

Her burning passion and desire to protect her people.

How could she not gain a vision, how could she not ascend.

It was why he stuck around, stayed by her side.

Partially to ensure the safety of Mondstadt.

Partially to see if there’s anything he could do to save her.

Not that there’s anything he could do, or dare do.

Her will was extraordinary during her life.

It's just beyonf that, that is the issue.

The gaze of Celestia is particularly strict when it comes to cases such as these. Any attempts to defy destiny will be met with swift retribution.

Celestia does love its retribution.

Any hint of disloyalty, or protest will be swiftly squashed.

There was always a bitter irony in his position as Archon.

He was strong enough to protect his people from gods and monsters and other humans.

But not Celestia.

Not one was strong enough to fight against Celestia, even the creator of this land fell to their lies and trickery.

He has no idea what the Tsaritsa could possibly be planning to think they stand a chance.

Perhaps that’s why she’s moving so quickly.

In hopes of finishing her plans before the Heavenly Principles awaken.

He wished her luck on that front.

Even though he may not have the courage to do the same.

He just wished she was less aggressive about it.

Honestly, she didn’t even bother asking him before sending Rosalyn to attack him.

In front of his own church no less.

Honestly the audacity

Although, to be fair, without that audacity she probably wouldn’t have dared to try going against Celesta.

Her lack of contact with Celestia may have also played a role.

She is not a part of the original Seven after all.

Both he and Morax had visited Celestia firsthand upon their ascension to Archonhood.

It’s where they received their gnosis, their Archon robes and well.

Where they’ve seen the true capabilities of Celestia.

Witnessed the lengths they’re willing to go to to squash any resistance.

On that front he understood Baal’s reasoning behind the Vision Hunt Decree.

While she may not have gone to Celestia herself and witnessed what the original seven did. He had no doubt that her sister passed on some warning to her before her death.

It was smart.

If not ultimately misguided.

Sacrificing the few for the sake of the many.

Stifling a couple vision holders in exchange for the safety of her nation.

He understood the urge.

Disagreed with it, but understood it all the same.

The role of allogenes is essential to the survival of Teyvat.

Like it or not.

Without them, Teyvat would collapse.

Sacrificing the few for the many.

He despises it.

What Teyvat is built upon.

What it requires to function as it does now.

But he’s not strong enough to change any of it.

All he can do is wallow in the knowledge that Teyvat is-

The bard shakes his head vigorously to get rid of the path his thoughts are heading towards.

No,

Bad thoughts,

Not tonight,

Tonight is for fun.

Not,

Well.

Anyways, he’s getting maudlin, that’s no good for such a festive night.

He tips his glass back, emptying it of its contents.

The Dawn’s Winery quality is unparalleled.

As usual of course.

One of his pettier achievements to say the least.

When Morax announced his desire for Liyue to become the trading hub of Teyvat, and one of the most prosperous nations. Going on to monologue about how he will pave the way for business and prosperity using his contracts and all that blah blah blah.

Well, he couldn’t help but make fun of him about that, now could he.

Leading to Rex Lapis snapping back about how he can’t contribute anything to his nation beyond drunken songs.

Well jokes on him.

Mondstadt is now the nation of drunken songs.

The best in fact.

Sure it could be considered a waste of time to change the water in Mondstadt specifically so that it would be the best for wine brewing.

But the wine industry is now one of Mondstadt's main sources of revenue.

It was a calculated business decision and completely not related to the grumbling of some winemakers about having to purify the water multiple times to get a good yield.

A familiar presence approaches, the wind whispers.

Venti perks up as he hears a familiar set of footsteps approach.

“Tone deaf Bard,” an excitable voice exclaimed. “I knew he’d be here.”

The bard in question swiveled around in his seat to face the Traveler and Paimon, pasting a cheerful smile on his face.

“Traveler, we meet again, why don’t you sit down, we can share a drink or ten.”

The golden haired teen rolled their eyes at his, admittedly cheesy rhyme.

“I need your help with something,”

Their voice is serious.

In all honesty he hasn’t seen them this serious since what happened with Dvalin.

Venti took a quick peek over at Master Diluc, still serving other customers, great!.

He quickly slipped out of his seat and followed the Traveler out of the Angel’s Share.

Once they’ve reached an appropriately secluded spot, they turned to him.

Paimon and the Traveler exchange glances.

This must be pretty serious for even Paimon to sober up like that.

“Venti,” they ask, “We need to ask you and Dvalin a favor.”

Me, and Dvalin?

What could-

“The creator of Teyvat is back.”

~~~

Masterlist | Prev Part

I was thinking of doing something special for part 10, haven't really decided but I'll keep you guys posted.

Thanks so much for your kind words of encouragement.

You guys are the only reason I've gotten this far in the story so far.

As always my askbox is open, for any questions, theories, etc etc

Taglist:@bunniotomia,@lucid-stories, @ymechi, @chocogi, @ra404, @ash1, @esthelily, @tottybear, @mmeatt, @quacking-simp, @reemthetheme, @universallyenthusiastsage, @resident-cryptid, @fantasyhopperhea, @thedevioussmirk, @etherisy, @naynayaa ,@mel-star636, @chericia, @aithane, @mmeatt, @xrosegorex, @amidst-the-tempest, @8-sinner-8, @reapersan, @elementalia ,@strangeygirl, @chaoticfivesworld, @scalyalpaca, @avalordream,@ranshin03, @vvyeislazzy, @wishicouldart, @raykayrei

#genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin cult au #my writing

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neet-elite · 4 days

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↳ EVENT 31. Sam (Dry humping & Phone Sex)

Pairing: Sam / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,602 Warnings: dry humping, phone sex, sub sam, masturbation, dirty talk, petname (pup), pillow humping Prompt(s): 09 — dry humping + 10 — phone sex Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: look. i couldn't pass up the sam opportunity, my absolute FAVOURITE boy. my NUMBER ONE. that, and this is the first phone sex prompt i've gotten, so i had to!!!! phone sex is so slept on as a trope but its one of my favs, so thank you for giving me this opportunity!! i also wrote sam a bit more subby than usual? idk i imagine him being very vers, but rather than just being happy to get his cock wet, i wrote him to be a bit more submissive. hope thats ok!

Tossing and turning in his thoroughly kicked sheets, he kicks at them with defeat once more before they fall completely to the ground below, a pitiful whine of frustration escaping him with a huff to match the distressed state of his bed. He's sure he looks no better, thoroughly exhausted and annoyed at the situation he's found himself in tonight.

Try as he might, he can't fucking get off properly without your help.

Turned useless by your skilful touch, he digs under his pillow dramatically— you know when you need something so bad that the act of attaining it seems impossibly difficult? A mess of a man just from searching, tension building in his body when he can't immediately find his phone, huffing and puffing and whining openly at the way his cock matches the stress he feels in his muscles, how it twitches and drools with every elongated second that passes until—

"Fuck, finally."

He finds it, turning the screen to face him only to squint at the blinding light that flashes him upon unlocking the phone. Blinking a few times to clear his vision, he stares at the numbers that greet him with exasperation.

Two AM in the morning.

Idly palming away at his already exposed cock—pyjama bottoms and underwear already removed aaaages ago—he lets out a strained groan. In part because it feels good to be touching himself again, but also because it's not enough. Never enough nowadays. God, you've fucking ruined him, to be honest. Turned his efforts futile, sapped any hope for him finding anything other than your perfect touch acceptable. And it always strikes him this late at night, or early morning, fucking whatever— always at an ungodly hour where he knows that you're out of reach. Left in his lonely bed to writhe and tremble with almosts. Almost good enough, almost close enough, almost fucking there if only you were by his side.

Desperately, he tugs on his cock again. Strokes his length up and down so eagerly, because it's been so fucking long since he first got hard; all because he was looking at pictures of you again, of course. It's as if he's fucking obsessed with you or something, his cheeks heating up at the stark reminder of how pretty you were in the pictures. Just little pixels on his screen, forcefully squeezing his eyes shut to try and focus on the numb stimulation his overworked fingers offer his cock, but it's useless. His whole body feels hot under the mere reminder of your existence, yearning in vain for even your ghost touch, tongue poking out in sheer concentration to finally get off; he's pretending that it's you touching him again, and not his pitiful attempts to cum.

But, alas, he knows the outcome of such tried and true methods. Only because he's done this countless times before, struggled by himself for so many hours— you're gonna be the fucking death of him if he keeps this up. It'd be funny if he wasn't the one suffering, rolling his eyes instinctively at himself, his voice comes out all high pitched and fucked, because even without your presence you still manage to spoil him.

"Fuck sake—" He curses, complaining to no one but his own pointless efforts to jack off. What he needs right now is you, more than anything ever. A pained ball in his throat preventing further whimpering, how fucking embarrassing, right? That he can't even masturbate any more now that you've started dating him, pretty cunt, expert hands, and wanting mouth is all his cock wants for now. And can you blame him? You've spoiled him rotten, cause this temper tantrum to surface now that he's unable to obtain the sole thing he wants right now. S'all your fault, if you think about it.

Or maybe he's just making excuses for himself as his eyes shoot open, fraught with sheer need as he squeezes his cock absently. He knows it's late, knows that you're probably fast asleep by now, but fuck— he needs you. And you did tell him to call whenever he was needing, right?

Disregarding the fact that he intimately understands that you meant something more like perilous predicaments, and not just because he yearns to have his cock wet, he can't even hope to focus on how potentially rude he's being right now as he brings up your contact name on his phone, taking only a brief pause to roll his hips against his tight fist before pressing call.

And he waits. For what feels like for fucking ever, but in reality could only have been a few seconds. Doesn't even dare breathe down the phone when the call connects, merely squeezing at his cock some more as he awaits for you to break the silence, his vision glazed over when you let out a sleepy yawn.

God, he does feel bad about it, y'know? A little seed of quilt buried deep in his tummy, especially given how long and hard you yawn down the phone at him.

"Sammy?" You finally hum for him, and it's silly how much even just hearing you mumble his name gets him going. Has his tummy filling with butterflies to drown out the thrum of guilt, hips bucking once more into his slicked up fist to seek sweet stimulation. The amount of precum just drooling for you would be outrageous, if not for the fact that he's the only one privy to such degenerate details. "What's wrong? Are you ok? Is everything okay?"

Ah, he can hear the sleep just dripping from your voice. So soft and cute and for him, right? His fist automatically stroking up and down, a slow rhythm to idly play with himself while you wake.

"Sorry," He starts, immediately coughing to try and hide the whine in his tone. To mask the slick up and down of his fat cock as he strokes it to the sound of your voice. How fucking perverted, right? Downright dirty that all he needs is your sleepy sighs to get off to, repositioning more on his back to get comfortable now that you're aiding in his relief, even if unknowingly. "Just— uh, I just missed you s'all." He lies through gritted teeth, hoping to quell the lewd need in his tone from you.

"At... Two AM?"

Yeah, he thinks to himself. Two fucking AM, prime you up? texting time. A pout tugging on his lips despite no one being around to witness it, he knows the excuse is flimsy at best, sure that you can hear the amount of precum coating his cock with every squelch of his tightly wrapped fist up and down, because he can surely feel the way it collects on his balls. Gross, he audibly winces down the phone. But he can't just out himself, can he? Back arching up off his bed at the knowing tone of your voice, he's so close he can almost taste it now that you're with him in some capacity. It's all he needs, ever.

"What's up, pup?" You rightfully question him, the playful nickname doing wonders to his current sticky situation. An undignified whine escaping him at the unspoken context of such a title. Would you be mad at him for jerking it to your voice? Even if you're dating him, he hasn't exactly clued you in to the situation, biting down on his bottom lip in vain hope that you may have misheard his tell tale moan.

But you know him so well, and he can envision the smirk you must be wearing with your next words.

"Oh. Needy pup, aren't you?" You coo, and he can't help but to lean further into your teasing, placing the phone closer to his ear and also raising his hips up a little to hump into every stroke of his cock. Caught with his pants down, literally, he lets out a breathless shudder for you to mock.

"Yeah— I, um... Fuck— No use hiding it," He half laughs, a broken whine following his attempt at humour because he hears you simply hum in response. A plain sound by all accounts, but God he's so in love with you, you could say literally anything to him right now and he'd be hard pressed not to cum on the fucking spot. "Need you. Like, bad, babe. It's— I've been goin' fr'like an hour, an' the whole time I couldn't stop thinking' 'bout you."

"Yeah?" You taunt seamlessly, teasing lilt to your voice that goes straight to his cock that's currently getting choked by his iron grip; he can barely stand it any longer. Can barely stand you, and the way you so easily have him wrapped up around your little finger, toying with him despite being so far away on the farm. Fucking hates just how much he adores every fucking second of it, more so fucking his hand than he is stroking himself now, frustration still settled thickly in his bones when you giggle back at him. "Just wanna hear me talk?"

"Please—" He rushes to answer, imagining you're on top riding him right now, his voice low and throaty with the amount of effort he has to exert just to jack off. "Anything, babe. Jus'— Jus' talk t'me. S'all I need, promise I'll be quick."

He's gotta be, right? Been at it for so long already, fucking his fist with frantic thrusts now that you're down the line, humming and giggle and shit, you sound so fucking pretty, especially when you know that you hold all the control in this situation. Even just hearing you sigh before likely scolding him for such a pathetic reason of calling is hot to him, fat cock leaking all over himself as he huffs in pleasure.

"Sound so wet, Sammy," You say after a brief pause, adopting a sultry tone that causes him to heat up in stark embarrassment. The confirmation that, yes, you can hear how wet he is for you, tips him over the edge. Lust pooling in his tummy at how easily you seem to ruin him, his eyes rolling back at he instinctively places his shirt in his mouth to chew on. A gag as much as it is an attempt to show off for you, lost himself too much in your dulcet tones that he forgets you can't actually view his performance tonight. Just listen, though, to the way he whines so prettily, right? All feminine and fucked, muffled behind the fabric of his shirt that soon turns soppy with spit. "Does it feel good? Masturbating to my voice? Does it feel good to be so dirty, pup?"

Without realising, he nods his head frantically, pressing the phone closer to his ear with a choked whine. "Yeah— Fuck, feels so good, keep goin'—"

"Mm... I wish you were here tonight, Sammy. Been missing you too, y'know?"

God he fucking loves to hear that, so much so that he lets his body sit up straight, phone still attached to his ear as he grabs the pillow he was just resting on, situating it in front of him folded in half.

"Want you too." You sigh, and he swears he can hear some rustling on your end that only ignites the fire in his tummy. Forces him to thrust forward against the old pillow, the immediate rub of his soaked tip against the fabric of the case causing a moan of your name to sound down the phone. A plea, almost. Begging for more, seeking your care and attention because you're the only one who can give it to him.

Because truthfully, he could fuck his cock against his pillow all night long if he wanted to, but nothing would satisfy him quite like your voice does. Got him all sloppy and wet for you, yeah? Thrusting against his fucking pillow like some horny teen for God sake.

"Sound so pretty, Sammy—" yeah, fuck yeah. That's it, that's what he needs, humping himself stupid against his worn pillow like the pup you keep calling him; fitting the role so well as whines continue to spill for your words, panting down the phone with his head hanging low. One hand keeping the phone steady, the other squishing his cock between the folded pillow section. If he shuts his eyes tight enough, he can almost perfectly imagine that he's fucking you, listening closely to the gentle shuffle of your hand assumedly under your panties, given the subtle wet schlick of your perfect little hole he focuses in on— fuck he wants to be inside of you so bad.

Wants to shove his cock so deep into your angel cunt like how he's fucking his pillow right now, huffing and trembling above it, letting his precum smear and stain the fabric all sloppy because he can't fucking stop. Not when he hears a barely there whine escape your lips, muted behind the phone, but he fucking hears it. His head dizzy with desire, gasping openly into the night as his bed squeaks under his frantic thrusts.

Firmly pressing down on his cock, making the glide against the pillow as snug and tight as possible, he mewls so shamelessly for you. Too far gone in the pleasure of your voice, in every little gasp and groan from your end of the phone, a shiver rolling down his spine when you eagerly whimper his name too.

He's mid stroke when you decide to end him for tonight. So effortlessly too, rock hard cock throbbing thoughtlessly under the softness of the pillow, turned dumb under your voiceless direction. Getting off to your moans like this, a whimpering mess in his room. "Wanna— Wanna ride you right now, Sammy..." And he just fucking knows that you're pouting right when you admit that, the sight so clear in his mind that his hips stutter against the pillow with a broken moan, dropping his phone in favour of digging his nails into the fabric as if he was grabbing your ass, or tits. He can't decide in the moment, too busy milking himself into the softness of the pillowcase, getting it all gross and sticky with repeated humps to milk the fat load that's been building for so long outta him.

So fat, in fact, that even when he's sure that he's done and he can finally pick up the misplaced phone again, flopping over the pillow to still idly fuck against it, the squishy mess he's left behind keeps his cock all sore and throbbing for you. Heaving down the line a little, letting out a breathy chuckle at the state of himself, heart fit to burst at the sound of your equal enjoyment tonight.

"Sorry—" He starts, still a little out of breath from fucking himself so hard, and for so long too! But he's so thankful that you stopped by to save him, a cheesy grin on his face at the way he continues to hump lightly, fully satisfied thanks to your meagre words of encouragement. "I just, I really needed that. Thanks, really."

You yawn before responding, and once again that seed of guilt returns, prompting him to sputter for a second before recognising his faults. "Shit, I'm so sorry babe, I know it's late and—"

"Sammy, it's okay. Make it up to me tomorrow, okay?"

And he can't rightly turn that offer down, can he? Would be a fool not to return the favour, smiling away to himself with a tight chest full of love. He hopes you hold him to that promise.

"Yes ma'am."

#500 event!#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv sam smut #stardew valley sam smut

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stellar-skyy · 6 months

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OH DEER — Cyno x reader.

i. SUMMARY: Cyno celebrates Christmas with the person he loves. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of eating/food, mentions of alcohol, kisses. iii. NOTES: Fluff, modern au, Tighnari, Collei, Kaveh, and Alhaitham make an appearance, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 2k words. iv. A/N: Written for Écrin de Littérature's Joyeux Noël event! I wrote this instead of doing my work :D This is my first time writing Cyno, so I apologise if this is ooc... I really want to write for him more :( psst... @ryuryuryuyurboat

By the time [Name] woke, it was late morning.

The rays of sunlight sifted through a crack in the blinds, shining a beam directly into their face. A displeased mumble escaped their lips, followed by a pinch between their brows, and then a hand thrown over their eyes in an attempt to block out the light. Their efforts were in vain, as the sun spilled further into their room and lit it up in a warm glow.

As the terrible ordeal of waking up settled over them, they slowly became aware of a warm, comfortable weight at their side. Cyno had shifted the blankets in his sleep and half-tossed them off the bed, but he seemed content throwing one arm across their chest and absorbing whatever body heat they gave off. At that time, he would have normally been awake for hours, but alas; the festive season seemed to have drained his energy.

They cracked their eyes open, brushing their hand over the tufts of hair across his forehead. He made a tiny noise, moving to press his face into their side.

"Cyno,” They whispered, patting his cheek lightly. He groaned. “I know you’re awake.”

“You don’t know that for certain,” A muffled grumble sounded from where his face was hidden against them.

A small smile tugged at the corner of their mouth. They let their hand fall to the top of his head, running their fingers through his long grey hair. “Good morning, Cyno.”

“G’morning,” he mumbled, his voice still husky with sleep. One crimson eye opened, then the other. “It’s Christmas, isn’t it? Is it snowing?”

They squint through the small crack of the window they can see. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Hmm… you’re right.” He blinked at the small sliver of light coming from between the blinds. “It looks more like rain, dear.”

A long silence fell between them.

“…Rain, dear? See, it sounds like reindeer, which is hilarious because—”

“I got it,” They interrupt before he can go on a tangent about exactly how his joke was funny. The rest of the blankets fall off them as they swung their legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going to go make breakfast.”

“Wait.” He abruptly sat upright, a solemn look on his face. After a pause, he leaned over and kissed their cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

Breakfast was simple ordeal. There was Cyno’s coffee, that they left on the counter for when he made the effort of moving to the kitchen. A few slices of toast, and some cooked eggs. They would need to put some food in the oven so it would be fresh by the time they had Christmas lunch, but most of the food was already prepared.

Halfway through, Cyno managed to drag himself out of the bedroom and slump over the kitchen counter, lazily reciting as many Christmas jokes as he could recall, while his partner debated throwing a slice of toast at his face to get him to shut up.

After, came the most anticipated part of the morning; presents. The two retreated to the living room, settling cross legged across the carpet floor.

It was a new house, primed and ready for new memories to decorate the halls. Moving in late December had allowed them an excuse to buy the essentials for their home disguised under bright red wrapping paper, hastily shoved under a simple tree. The tree itself was modestly decorated with whatever they could find, and the presents underneath few and far between. Nothing too special, just enough to fit into the corner of their new household, leaving more than enough room to grow into.

Two stockings dangling above the fireplace held the most ‘gift-like’ of gifts. A 1000 silly Christmas jokes book for Cyno, a box of candies for them, two matching pairs of socks with silly puns on them.

Torn up and crumpled wrapping paper decorated the floor of the living room by the time they had finished, Cyno already flipping through the pages of his new book in an effort to find even more of the worst of the worst puns to torment—ahem, entertain them with.

It was almost dizzying, how quickly they went from two strangers meeting by chance, to celebrating Christmas together in their shared home. Something could be said about the domesticity of it all, about the peppered kisses and lingering touches between measuring ingredients in a kitchen just the right size for two. How stolen glances became stolen kisses and making small talk turned to making cookies together.

There was something about the thought that made them feel so warm. Must be the spirit of the season, and all that.

“Do you know what Rudolph said, after Santa Claus tripped over in front of him?” Cyno asked. [Name] paused, hands hovering over the cooking dough spread out across the bench. Cyno stared back at them seriously, with an expression that would be vaguely intimidating if he wasn’t sitting idly on a kitchen bench with his legs dangling over the side.

“Cyno…” They breathed, warning in their tone.

“He said, ‘Oh deer.’” Cyno was silent for a beat, before leaning forward slightly. “Do you get it? See, this joke uses the phrase ‘Oh dear’, which would be an acceptable response to seeing a person fall, however it is also phonetically similar to the word ‘deer’, which is the species Rudolph is.” He paused again. “Do you get it?”

“Yes, I got it,” They groaned, rubbing the bridge of their nose to try and ward off an incoming headache. Unfortunately, they had forgotten they were still baking, and the action inadvertently led to a smudge of sugar being wiped onto their face.

Cyno huffed a laugh, jumping off the edge of the bench. As he stepped across the kitchen to meet them, he cupped their face, bringing it further towards his until he was close enough to kiss the spot between their eyes. He pulled away, licking the sugar off his lips with a slight smile.

“You could’ve just wiped it off,” They chide, but there’s a smile at the edges of their lips.

“Maybe,” He agreed, this time kissing their forehead.

Their smile widened at the gesture, even as they pushed on his chest to get him out of the way. He let himself be moved backwards, settling against the counter so he was out of their space.

“Move, I need to finish these before they arrive.”

The cookies were one of the few things that slipped their mind the day before, leaving them less than an hour to finish making the dough and put them in the oven before their friends arrived.

Wordlessly, Cyno took one of the cookie cutters and pushed them down onto the flattened dough. Together the two of them worked, until the tray was covered in tiny gingerbread men and stars and Christmas trees. Cyno opened the oven, allowing them to place it on the rack.

As soon as they pulled the oven mitts off, an arm slid around their waist. In a second, they were spun around and a breath away from Cyno. They laughed, in between kisses peppered across their lips.

“Do you know what the moose said to it’s family on Christmas Day?” Cyno murmured into their mouth. “Merry—”

A knock from the door startled them both. Cyno glared at it, unhappily detangling himself from them and opening the door.

“We’re here!” Tighnari said as he entered, letting Collei duck under his arm to bustle into the room.

“As the salt and pepper would say, Seasonings Greetings,” Cyno nodded in acknowledgement at the pair. “Do you understand the joke?”

Tighnari groaned loudly. “We just got here, Cyno. Couldn’t you have waited five minutes? Or several hours, maybe?”

“Merry Christmas to you both,” [Name] smiled painfully. “He’s been like this all morning.”

“Hi [Name]!” Collei said cheerfully. Her bright red skirt swished and twirled as she moved around the room, matching the lopsided Santa hat perched on top of her and Tighnari’s heads. Tighnari was dressed just as festive, in a comfortable looking red sweater.

“Hello [Name],” Tighnari raised an eyebrow, smirking at their outfits. “Nice sweater.”

“I didn’t choose them,” [Name] sighed.

Cyno had practically insisted on the matching ugly sweaters. They lived up to their names, the designs were hideous: clashing deep reds and muted greens, striped patterns all up the arms and a gaudy snowman print across the front. His only response to their complaints was that ‘they’re supposed to be ugly, that's the point!’

“They’re in the spirit of the season,” Cyno said stubbornly. Tighnari held up his hands in mock surrender.

“I wasn’t insulting them. They’re… merry.”

Cyno’s vehement defence of the dreadful sweaters was prevented by another knock at the door. Tighnari reached over to turn the handle, right as the door swung open.

“Merry Christmas to you all!” Kaveh declared. Like Tighnari, he was also wearing a sweater, but his was a deep green and covered in spiralling patterns. “I would apologise for our lateness, but it wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh please,” Alhaitham scoffed, trailing in after Kaveh. “If you didn’t spend an hour trying to style your hair, we would have been here ages ago.”

“You—It wasn’t me who decided to wait until five minutes before we agreed to leave to get dressed! You have the time-management skills of a three-toed sloth!”

“I simply don’t concern myself with vanity. There is no need to spend hours on my hair, or try and find the perfect outfit… unlike some people.” It was fitting, then, that Alhaitham was the only one in the room without any sort of Christmas themed clothing.

“Maybe it is because I actually have the effort to care about my appearance, instead of looking like I just got out of bed without brushing my hair!” Kaveh paused, squinting at Alhaitham. “Did you brush your hair this morning?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, when yours took an hour to look just as messy as it did when you woke up.”

“How—”

“Not to interrupt this lover’s spat,” Tighnari interrupted. “But if we want to have lunch anytime in the next several hours, we should probably start soon.”

“We brought pita pockets!” Collei held up a box with a grin.

“Ah, I’m afraid I didn’t have time to cook this morning,” Kaveh sighed, resolutely ignoring Alhaitham’s rolled eyes. “But I did bring a bottle of wine.” He glanced over at Collei. “Um. I am assuming you have non-alcoholic options as well.”

Cyno beckoned them over to the table, moving around the plates to make room for Collei’s pita pockets and Kaveh’s wine. Kaveh and Alhaitham sat down first, opposite each other so they could finish their argument face-to-face. Tighnari was next, and Collei followed, sitting in the seats at the end. Finally, Cyno slipped into the seat beside his partner, giving their hand a quick squeeze.

There was something so perfect about the moment, Kaveh and Alhaitham bickering across the table, while Tighnari rolled his eyes at Cyno’s jokes, and Collei sneakily took another bread roll off his plate while he was distracted. It was the kind of moment they wished they could freeze in time and seal up into a snow globe to display on their nightstand, so they could pick it up and admire the scene within whenever they liked. To spend such a special time, surrounded by the chatter and laughter of the people they loved the most, was truly a gift in itself.

“You should really try to be more like the Christmas tree, Tighnari—and lighten up.”

“Cyno, I will leave, and it will be your fault!”

Yes, perfect indeed.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #🎄— joyeux noël: 2023 #favoniuslibrary #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #cyno x reader #genshin cyno x reader #cyno x gn reader #cyno x gender neutral reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader

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call-me-copycat · 1 year

Text

The Weight of Regret

So... It seems I can't save requests to drafts without them disappearing... なぜこうなるのか…( ꐦ•᷄ὤ•᷅)و

I deeply apologize if I've never received your ask! I have many requests waiting right now, but now that I know about this I'll make sure to try my best to keep them from disappearing (_๑óωò)_

*I FORGOT TO SCREENSHOT IT!! NOO ｡°꒰ ՞ ´ ᗣ`°꒱°｡

➤ Welcome: Links to all my masterlists, rules for requests, and some info about me (⁠๑⁠¯⁠◡⁠¯⁠๑⁠)

▶ [CHARACTERS]: Dadzawa x Daughter Reader (platonic)

▶ [GENRE]: Hurt/Comfort + angst

▶ [SUMMARY]: You've always struggled with smoking, and it tears away at you until you're caught. Will you get into trouble, or will you be spared and helped?

▶ [WORD COUNT]: 6,868

▶ [WARNINGS]:

- This one is rather angsty all throughout

- Mental breakdowns

- Smoking (obviously)

- Mentions of addiction

A deep inhale. The smoke filling your lungs gave off a comforting feeling that temporarily masked the guilt that ate away at you. A heavy exhale. The remnants of your action shamelessly filling the air in a heavy cloud of smoke.

It was a tiresome night, and stress was breaking apart your mind as exams rode closer and closer to the present day. Too many things had to be done at that moment, and even more things were left undone or unfinished, waiting for you to come back and complete them. You didn't know when that time would come though.

It all seemed so heavy. You'd push yourself to complete the burdensome amount of classwork you were assigned and then will yourself to train on your quirk. You'd repeat this cycle day after day, but you never seemed to gain any benefits from doing all this. It seemed as though all your efforts were in vain. You weren't much of a suck-up, but there were still small expectations that at least someone would notice how hard you were pushing yourself. Alas, that day never came.

No one else seemed to be struggling this much. It caused your mind to wander where you didn't want it to. You began to think... Were you falling? Was there something wrong with you? Were you not cut out for the Hero Course? Troubling thoughts such as these began to slowly litter your mind. Beginning like a small weed, they festered and grew to unimaginable proportions.

They began to tear apart your sanity, and it felt as though you were having an argument with your own brain every single day. It was exhausting, and horribly painful to endure. But you didn't let anyone know. You couldn't. They'd think you were insane. Or they'd baby you, seeing you as too unstable to be a hero one day. All the work and effort you put in would all be wasted without anything to show for it.

Endure. That's all that rang about your head. All you had to do was to keep yourself moving. To endure it, that's what made a hero after all, right?

Too bad no one told you how pointless it all felt. It seemed as though you were spiralling, into an endless pit of misery that welcomed lost and pained souls into its gaping mouth. It was times like these that sparked the flame of your habit.

Twisting the white stick around your fingers, you thought back to how it started while staring into the flickering yellow flame at the end.

It was all too much that day. It was too much everyday, really, but that day in particular had hit you hard and knocked everything out of you without any preparation time. A misaligned testing schedule, a broken phone, a dropped dinner. Everything seemed to go wrong for no apparent reason. You wanted to burst into tears, but as a last resort you willed it away.

Your mind had been running a marathon, and you were exhausted beyond belief from the work your class had been put through. You had originally walked into your father's room to ask him if you could have some help on an assignment you had been struggling with, but it quickly changed.

Looking around Aizawa's room, you didn't see him anywhere in sight. You saw some of his things littered about the room, not particularly messy but in an organized chaos kind of way. Realizing he must've been busy with something or called by someone, you sighed and went to exit back to your own room not too far away. However, something caught your eye.

A white box was partially sticking out from under his work bag, and although you knew what it was you still lifted the bag to see anyways. A clean, already opened box of cigarettes met your drained and exhausted gaze. It was no secret Aizawa was a smoker, in fact a good chunk of the teachers smoked every now and then. However, unlike the others, you noticed your father never really talked about it openly. He'd answer questions briefly before moving the topic of discussion, and that was about as much as you got out of him.

Memories of him scooting you back inside the house when you were younger flashed across your eyes, as he always wanted you to be somewhere else when he was submitting to his slight addiction. It was almost like an unspoken rule, but it always infuriated you how he never outright told you anything.

You didn't have time to read in between the lines. Pushing yourself to simply get out of bed was a struggle, so that's probably why you weren't thinking clearly that night. All the tests, assignments, criticizing, and sleepless nights bursted throughout your mind, burning your thoughts on the rising anger.

You hadn't had time to think. What were you so angry about that night? You don't remember. Possibly the work without reward. Or the unspoken sayings. Or the fiery thoughts that charred your mind everyday and night. Who knows.

But what you did caused a chain. A chain that you wished never existed. Looking at the open box was tempting. But you were a good kid, right? You got good grades, you treated everyone decently, you did as you were expected. But what about you? You hadn't thought about that. And the rage filled your consciousness once again, fueling your shaky fingers to nab a single stick from the box before running out of there.

Only, you didn't know what to do when you got back to your room. You had clutched it to your chest, panting from the run. You had never even held a cigarette before, so you took the time to examine it. You didn't think it looked like much, but you heard it caused nasty effects and addiction that was overall very hard to cope with. There wasn't much you heard spoken about it, except for maybe a passing stranger on the streets.

It was seen as a taboo. To smoke was to throw yourself into being delinquent. You'd be seen as one of those bad kids that got tattoos and wore spiky clothing. Only... That's what you were taught, but seeing average people like your father, or even Nezu smoke every now and then debated that thought.

You wished you threw it away. Burned it without putting it in your mouth. Anything but smoking it.

A "cancer stick", a "coffin nail", you had heard it go by many names. It all worried you, but the thrill of doing something so wrong, of doing something just for you... It excited you for once. You didn't care that it was bad, nor did you care that you'd come to regret your actions. Life was heavy and cold, quiet and unforgiving. You needed something to pick you back up, to distract you from the swirling winds of reality that screeched outside the flames of the smoke that shielded you.

You lit it, watching the flame flicker. That was your last chance to throw it away. Too bad you listened to impulse instead. You certainly learned your lesson. Putting it to your lips was foreign, and it felt so dirty. The first inhale was the worst, leaving you in a coughing fit and a state of confusion and irritation on the lack of soothing that was supposed to come from it.

After trying again, it got easier for you. And easier. A little too easy. You sat there, enjoying the vague calmness that washed over you as the hot nicotine filled your lungs, pushing away everything that once hurt. It was refreshing, and you wanted more. You wanted a stronger escape, one where you were nothing but a floating blob in your head. Unfortunately for you, the cigarette ran down too far, the slight burn ripping you away from your temporary euphoria.

You watched the little flame burning the paper down in present day, eyes empty and brain too numb to cope properly. The memories haunted you, but in a way it had become routine. Although you knew it was bad, and although you knew the effects, you couldn't tear yourself away from it.

Addiction had long since clung to your head, taking control of your thoughts and behaviors. You soon found yourself doing things you wouldn't have before, your limbs being puppeteered by a broken mind. It spread, until there wasn't a single part of you that wasn't succumbed to this "infection", as you called it.

You never stole at least, you had already succumbed to one of the drops in life, and you certainly wouldn't let yourself fall even further. You couldn't. Knowing the look in your father's eyes if he were to find out... It was haunting. But it was the only form of restraint that kept you sane in a way.

You worked small jobs when you could, such as helping yardwork or cleaning. Being a student left no time for a side job, and even if it did you knew you definitely wouldn't have enough energy for one. So you had to make do with what you had.

You'd always buy from smaller stores, or ones that were in lower quality, trying to diminish the risk that they'd ask for your age. You only got asked once, but you panicked and said you were buying it for a family member. You never went back, but of course you were still new to the way things were at that time.

It'd long since grown into something that seemed ever so permanent, and you were only counting down the days until you knew you wouldn't be able to go a day without a huff.

A soul contaminated and controlled far too young by a never-ending, all-controlling force that seemed so powerless at the time. You couldn't brush the disgust from your mind each time you reached into the box. It was an obsession you couldn't bear to be a part of any longer.

That one event led to others, creating an even worse cycle for you to be a part of. The chain of events leading all throughout your life until it reached to where you were now.

Looking at the pale paper tube lit aflame in your hands, the memories only served to cause more self-loathing and repulsiveness. Sighing, you brought it back to your mouth once more.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The morning after was one that mirrored every other awakening that had happened before it. You threw on your uniform, ate a quick breakfast, and went off to UA with your father.

As you walked through the halls in the early morning, thoughts of the previous night's memories flashed through your mind once more. Peeking over at Aizawa from the side of your eye, you wondered if he could possibly have known how to erase this addiction. With all his added years of experience with things of all sorts, he always had an answer to everything you asked of him. But this was different.

Lately you had been thinking of different ways on how you could force yourself to quit. The constant fear of discovery and disappointment continually unraveled your tattered mind, making it only so much worse to suffer at the hands of your own mind.

Too lost in thought, your attention was torn away from the delicate and intricate rays of sunlight shining through the tall glass windows of UA, coating the world in a filter of pink and orange as the sun began to wake up with its people of Japan. The wind swayed the leaves of the trees, causing a small flock of birds to rise up into flight. The world still spun around you in its elegant symphony of everyday life, and it would've calmed you if you had bothered to look up.

You stayed looking at the ground.

The day went by as normal as possible, a reminder of the continued cycle that constantly swallowed you without decision. General classes, lunch, more general classes, hero training, home. It was all the same, with only a few diminutive details that made that day slightly different from the others, just as they always do.

Except, to your annoyance you got hit with a craving right at the end of the day. It wasn't uncommon as the cravings had a habit of hitting you at random times, and if anything you considered yourself lucky since it happened to be the end of the day. Nothing a quick break out at the back of the school couldn't fix.

The back of the school was mainly empty everytime you saw it, and it was a sort of unspoken unwind-place for people to relax when they struggled being under the constant pressure of the expectations of perfection that came with being a part of UA. It was also the only spot without cameras as well, and there was only a miniscule risk of someone walking in on you. The only people that went to the back were tired teachers or students, or Lunch Rush every now and then who empties the waste contents of his equipment into the large ground drain that sits by the only door back inside.

The ground was covered in smudges and bits of debris, most uncommon to see from the elite UA high, but in a way it added to the charm since all other areas of the school were constantly squeaky clean. The bell had rung, and your father wasn't leaving until he finished his grading and daily training with Shinso, so you had a good amount of time to get what you needed done (you hated what you had become).

Opening a hidden side pocket from your school bag and bringing out the box, you promised to yourself you'd make it quick. You lit a stick. A deep inhale. A heavy, hatred-filled exhale. You watched with weary eyes as the cloud of smoke fluttered around in the wind, growing lighter and diminishing completely from the edges in. It was peaceful in a way, seeing something so terrible eventually disappear before your very eyes like you hoped. If only you could will it away from your head.

Taking another breath in, your little moment of calm was broken away from you as the back door creaked open, causing you to sputter and cough in surprise as your heart practically ripped itself from your chest.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Didn't mean to catch you off guard, Pocket Rocket!" A familiar voice reassured, the familiarity failing to do anything other than cause more panic and self-loathing.

You looked up to see none other than Present Mic turning around from where he had his back turned, his work bag in one hand and the other trying not to let the back door slam.

"Just trying to escape a little early, y'know?-..."

Too late to run away. There was no time to hide your wrong-doings as you saw your father's best friend turn around and watched as his casual smile faltered as it fell upon the white stick that was currently lit and in between your fingers and your eyes that were wide open in surprise.

A million thoughts ran across your head. Disgust with the fact that you let your addiction get this bad. Rage at the world for pushing you so far. Fear of getting a disappointed look and an even more heavy discussion. Too many things to focus on, much too small a window of time.

The air was thick and heavy, the awkwardness you felt in the moment ate away at your very soul bit-by-bit as you waited for the silence to be cut through somehow. To be cut loose no matter the cost was what you so desperately wished for. But he stood there, an unreadable expression on his face.

Eventually Mic sighed a bit, and even though it was small it ripped a hole like none-other across your state of mind as the weight of the situation finally bore down on you.

He took off his glasses and quietly cleaned them with a small cloth from his pocket, lengthening the stretch of painful silence further as you waited in terrible anticipation. Placing the glasses on his head rather than back across his eyes, he turned and looked at you with a tired expression, dragging his hand down his face and sighing once again.

"Geez, kid. You're really killing me here..." He muttered, loud enough for you to hear. "How long?..."

Such a simple question, just two words. Two words too much. Two words you never hoped to hear, nor to ever have to answer.

"I, um.. Awhile..." That was all you could get out, voice slightly raspy from the hot smoke that went down your throat not too long ago. The shame was unbearable to endure.

"Man... What'm I gonna do?.." Mic looked exasperated, and truth be told he was. Although he was confused and worried, you were caught off guard with how calm he was. You expected shouting, scolding, immediate action, something. The fact that he wasn't showing much made you stuck on as to worry about if he was hiding his actual anger, or if he actually didn't care that great a deal. You doubted it was the latter.

He shook his head, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall. "Your dad know ..?" He asked it with a shallow tone, almost as if it was redundant and the answer was already known. You could only meekly shake your head no in response.

"Look, I'm gonna be honest with you - 'cause I'm your uncle. I'm not going to ask any questions or anything, I just... want to know if you're doing ok?" His green eyes shone with concern, and you felt another hole being torn in your heart as guilt gnawed at you.

You didn't initially answer, opting to bring your knees up to your chest and stare at the ground as you tried to conjure an appropriate response. You breathed out of your nose as you decided that there was no point in hiding anything anymore. It was already uncovered, why bother with more layers of nonsense?

"No... Sometimes I feel ok. But, then I feel like this other times..." You vaguely gestured to your surroundings, signaling that you weren't feeling mentally well currently, causing your habit.

"Geez, I'm so sorry [name]... " His expression was heavy, but still displayed an air of lightheartedness in an odd kind of comforting way.

"Look, here's what's going to happen ok? First I want you to tell- no wait.." He cut himself off, thinking for a second before beginning again. "No, first things first; hand over the box", Mic reached out a hand in your direction, signaling to you with a quiet air of kind authority.

Your eyes widened in initial surprise, but you supposed it had to have happened at some point when you got caught. It was harder than you liked to admit, grasping the box a little tighter until you clenched your eyes shut and swiftly dropped it in his hand before your mind could further disagree and get you into more trouble.

Mic let out a little breath as he looked at the box, and once again he caught you off guard as he opened it and handed you a single cigarette.

"Here. I'm not sayin' it's ok or anything... But I know from experience that the urges are tough to handle. Just don't want to throw you straight into the pool without a little help, y'know?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you pitifully took it from his hands, wishing you could just never have to look at it again. Sensing your disdain, he lightly sighed and patted you on your head. Your attention stayed fixated on the ground, avoiding his gaze.

"You know what you have to do next, right?"

Staying silent, you nodded.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Staring up into the night sky from the apartment balcony, you relished the quiet peacefulness you felt when you gazed up at the sparkling stars ahead.

The little town of Musutafu was always lit up at night. The distant sounds of cars and people's chatter filled your ears. There was a slight breeze that caused you to rub your uncovered arms despite it not being that discomforting. Windows were randomly lit up different shades of yellow or white from the surrounding buildings, and you distracted yourself by looking around to see if you could spot anyone walking around. You saw none, but you heard people all around.

You let out a heavy breath, wondering how you would be able to approach your father on the subject. You knew you had no choice, because if you didn't then Mic would definitely tell Aizawa himself, and that would make your situation worse and your reputation would go down. There was no escape and no more hiding.

At this point you'd accept any punishment that came your way - after all you were stuck at such a deep point in this hole you made that you couldn't even see a way out anymore. You'd get scolded, punished, people would think badly of you. You accepted it because what else could you do?

What hope was there really, when life pushed you to take such measures at your lowest only to punish you for falling into its trap? As much as you wanted to grow cold and bitter, you couldn't find it in yourself. You felt like a small child again, awaiting a cosmic trial that was about to be given to you by the mighty hands of the universe itself. A silly way of thinking, but at this point in your life you felt you needed it.

The breeze stilled, and the weight of the unmoving air settled on you. Looking up at the twinkling stars again, you tried to steel your mind as hard as you could so you could get the hard part over with. To have to come out all by yourself and to out yourself on a bad habit you gained from the lowest moments of your life made you feel like putty being pulled and twisted.

"Bit of a breeze out... Where's your jacket?"

You startled at the feeling of Aizawa's hand that suddenly placed itself on your shoulder without warning. You jumped a bit more than you would've under normal circumstances, much more tense than usual.

Blinking, you registered his question before answering with a feeble shrug of your shoulders, not bothering to look behind you to see where he was.

You heard the chair next to you creak before he spoke up again. "Bring your jacket next time you want to go outside. It's getting colder and I don't want you to get sick."

Sliding your eyes to the side, you glanced over at your father sitting casually in the soft chair that matched the one you were in, his hands in his pockets and his hair tied up. He was looking up at the sky just as you were, only with a more empty glaze as he scanned over it in exhaustion.

The sounds of the town didn't help the slightest in deterring the wave of stuffy silence that laid itself down over the both of you. It seemed you were the only one slightly bothered by it, which made sense since it took quite a bit to bother Aizawa.

You turned away and looked solemnly at the ground, eyes filled with the weight of all the dignity you knew were about to lose. The chilled breeze slightly numbed your fingers, it not being able to do much since the warmth of your hands clasped together kept it away.

"I heard from Ectoplasm that you were struggling with certain aspects of math, that right?"

Sighing, you clenched your hands tighter to the point where your fingernails were digging crevices into the soft skin of your palms. You weren't in the mood for small talk, especially about things you needed help on or were struggling with, so you just nodded stiffly.

He leaned back further into his chair. "I'm going to put you in Vlad's Hero Financing, that after-school program, until I see improvement."

Ah, the place where the bad or stupid kids go, you thought to yourself. There were many after school programs, but the hero financing class was (unsurprisingly) the least popular, so teachers had to send in disobedient or struggling students just to keep its attendance record up. You were sure Vlad got forcefully assigned to teach it since he never seemed to want to be there every time you saw him.

You didn't need this extra weight being thrown on top of you, only serving as an unnecessary reminder of your struggles and failures that turned you into the person you were today. It already gnawed at your skull every morning as soon as you opened your eyes and up until the last second before they closed again at night. To hear further criticism being tossed onto the already overflowing pile was only helping to force the bottle closer to bursting.

Warm tears began to fill your eyes once again as the thoughts and memories began rapidly assaulting and battering your bruised mind that had already endured so much. At that moment you felt nothing but rage. If asked, you couldn't explain what it was that you were angry at. Possibly too many things built up to pinpoint one single reason.

You were trapped and pressured, and what else could you do when you hit rock bottom besides digging deeper and letting loose? You were going to be seen in a worse light, to be met with angry and disappointed glances and glares, so why bother trying to fix a plate that was broken so far to the point where it was just dust?

What was the point of trying to push yourself further if it was all going to be blown away before your eyes? Your mind was a spinning cycle of pain and color, memories of both hatred and loathing helping to boost the deep-seated rage that burned the edges of your thoughts with red fury. You couldn't see clearly, couldn't think clearly, not a single logical thought breaching contact to help restrain the broken reigns that tore after giving their all for much too long.

"Because that's all I am to you, right? A bad kid? One that can't even comprehend something everyone else can?"

You spat with a venom that wasn't intended, the fiery rage burning your logic to ash. Looking over, you saw Aizawa turn your way in his chair, eyes scrunched in either worry or irritation, now on full alert at your angered outburst.

"Now look, I never said anything about your behavior, but since we're on the topic I think you could certainly use an adjustment-"

"Let me guess, it's once again good enough for you? Not happy with me again?" You interrupted, heart racing in your chest as you finally spoke without a forced filter. You were in the moment, and the adrenaline rush felt exhilarating. "Because too bad! I guess I'll never be the perfect student or daughter you want! You raised a delinquent, a failure! "

It was too much. You clawed at your face, eyes squeezed shut and jaw clenched tight as laborious breaths rushed out of you. The fear of being seen as a bad kid because of your habit ate away at you ever since that first smoke years ago.

Too overwhelmingly angry to think of anything further, you barely registered the gentle hands that urged your grip to loosen. Despite being detached from your surrounding environment, you still felt the soft pads of fingers wiping under your eyes and down your cheeks, and to your surprise you came to the realization that you had started crying at some point.

Trembling, you tried pushing away from your father's touch, still loopy on the rath you felt. Refusing to look up at him and avoiding his reaching hands, you hastily dug around your pocket, only for Aizawa to successfully grip onto your shaking hands and bring them into his comforting hold. He tenderly rubbed his thumbs over the soft skin on your hands, before letting one hand go to try to bring and bring your face to look at him.

"[Name]..." He breathed heavily out of his nose upon your blatant refusal to look at him once more despite his efforts. "Sweetie, what's going on? Talk to me, please."

The hurt tone in his voice caused another sting of guilt to burn its way into your heart. The concern, patience, and worry all made it so much harder to open up what needed to be let out.

You clutched his hand tighter in yours, earning an affectionate squeeze in response from your father before you pulled your hands out of his grip. Confused, Aizawa went to reach for you again, only to pause as he felt an unknown object in his hand that wasn't there before.

Opening his hand, he was met with a single, lightly crinkled cigarette sitting on the center of his palm, and his heart dropped upon the realization. This was a silent confession.

The silence was deafening, pounding into your eardrums with a heavy weight. Your heart was hammering so rapidly it caused concern as to whether or not it'd burst itself right out of your skin. In a way, you would've preferred that to sitting in that insufferable silence any day of the week.

Aizawa could only look at the object in his hand, cold and still. Memories of his own childhood and addiction haunted him everyday, but it had gotten to the point where he learned how to numb it out. So to see you, his one and only daughter, suffering from the same fate he had dealt with as a teen... It frightened him to an abysmal extent.

He felt in that moment that he had failed you as a father. After all, one wouldn't smoke without reason, and that reason normally wasn't something good. He knew you were pushing yourself, but that was something he had grown to expect. To be the daughter of Shota Aizawa meant that some burdens and expectations had to be carried, that was a fact. He never knew it'd get taken that far, though.

Oh, how he cursed himself. He cursed himself as much as he could mentally. Aizawa couldn't stand the thought of you hurting, of you struggling alone and in silence. He was your father, for goodness sake! And wasn't a father's job to care for their children, to keep them safe and happy? To be a shoulder for them to cry on? And yet, here he was, doing none of that, and his dear daughter suffering right in front of his eyes.

He looked up, only to see you staring at the ground, face hidden and hands clamped shut. There was no doubt in his head you were clenching your jaw as well.

Quietly, tenderly, Aizawa pushed your head up to face him, and this time you didn't object. Upon meeting eyes, he saw yours were watery and red, and you could only look at him, feeling pathetic as you let out a sniffle.

You were only able to wait. To wait for the disappointed speech you were given each time you messed up, to receive a harsh glare, or stern punishments.

But you received none. What caught you off guard was the gentle way Aizawa held your face in his hands, and the soft worried look that sat in his eyes. The complete opposite of what you expected.

"[Name]... Oh [Name]... " His voice resonated with remorse, as if he, in a way, felt more at fault for your bad habit than you were. You never wanted him to feel bad, you had only expected yourself to get dragged down because of this problem, and you fully accepted the thought too. So to see your father in so much pain... Stricken with grief and guilt over the habit you got yourself into... The hole already in your heart ripped further, and a heavy block of heartache settled upon you.

Choking back a sob, you were only able to get out a strangled "I'm sorry...". Aizawa shook his head no at your apology, eyes rimmed red now as well. "No, it's not your fault, kid." Gently pressing a tender kiss to your forehead in reassurance, he continued.

"... How long?" In a way, his question mirrored Mic's, although his voice held more distress, coming out in a slightly strangled manner due to his conflicting thoughts that jumped about his head.

"A few years..." You looked away, not being able to bring yourself to look at him in the eyes. You felt as though you should be completely honest in that moment, because after all lying would only bring about unnecessary complications, right?

You could see Aizawa visibly tense up a bit, obviously surprised upon receiving a solid answer so easily. He let out another sigh, continuing to look at you with a mix of bittersweet fondness and concern. Aizawa was never really an affectionate man, nor was he really one to show much emotion on the daily. But this time was different. His hands never left you, and his eyes gleamed with deep, thoughtful emotions that carried the weight of his thoughts.

"You aren't... You just-" He let out a heavy breath, struggling to get his words out. Normally he'd have an answer for everything. For some reason, at this moment his mind was failing him, possibly due to the fact that he had never expected to be visited by this day.

He opened his hand once again to take another look at the cigarette. He blankly stared at it before it evolved into a glare, angry at how both of your minds were bound to such a small, feeble item. Upset with how easily it took ahold of both of your lives, and how it preyed on the both of your vulnerable moments.

"I'm sorry... I don't want to be a bad kid... A delinquent..." Your shaky voice broke the silver of silence as you struggled to contain all the years of built up guilt and self loathing that were ready to burst from your mind, threatening to snap the reigns and break free.

Aizawa let out a soft sigh, his expression delving further from a look of anger into a more somber one.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, kid-"

His casualness and calm tone caught you by surprise, especially after you had steeled your mind in preparation for a lengthy scolding and disappointment. It seemed that wherever you went nobody gave it much thought, and although it was supposed to be relieving it gave off the opposite effect: as though no one cared.

"B-but I... I smoked! I'm no good, a delinquent, right? I-I..." Your thoughts began swallowing you, mocking you in its thick putty-like memories. The days when it was too much and you'd cry after. The anxiety that always came with the fear of getting caught. The forever fading hope that this would be over.

You weren't thinking properly, too many things you had imagined not coming true upon discovery. Your world was turned upside down, and it was a mess in your head.

You just wanted this to be over. You couldn't forgive yourself as easily as those around you had.

The flying thoughts and panicked irrationality of your mind was suddenly stalled as Aizawa abruptly placed a firm, solid hand on your shoulder - most likely to snap you out of it.

Looking up you were met with stern yet caring eyes, a swirling mixture of knowledge and pain behind the deep brown color they wore.

"I can tell you regret what you did, that's why I'm telling you to not be so hard on yourself. It'll only break your self-image if you expect perfection. Look..."

He signaled for you to sit, slowly pushing you back down into the chair you once were in before dragging his chair over so it was sitting directly in front of yours. His expression became serious, his features knotting into one of deep focus and thought. Hunching over and leaning his chin against his hands you suddenly realized just how close he was. Remembering him only acting like this once or twice, it was noticed that he only became like this for serious, close moments.

The first time he had sat you down such as this was after the USJ attack. He had held you in his arms after the bandages were removed, silent and... Different.

"We all make mistakes... " Aizawa spoke slowly, suddenly seemingly aware of life around him as you noticed his glazed look was no longer there.

"... We all tend to fall down at some point in our lives... But what matters is that we get back up. Even if you know you'll fall down again." He opened his hand and dropped the cigarette plainly on the small table that sat to the side of you both.

"What matters is that you learn from where you failed. That's why we mess up, to learn. And just because you've fallen certainly doesn't make you a delinquent."

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "You've made a mistake, you regret it, and you've learned your lesson. That's doesn't make you a bad kid, that makes you human."

You started tearing up, the weight of his words finally managing to sink in. Human. You were only human after all... Weren't you?

"Besides... It's not like you've committed some deadly crime. I was standing in your spot myself when I was your age, only..." He looked away and towards the stars littering the sky. "I didn't have anyone to go to. And look where that's got me" Letting out a humorless dry chuckle, he took a deep breath before letting some silence fall in between the two of you.

"I... I want this to end. I want it to all be over..." Voice meek and raw from all the crying, you didn't even know if you were speaking to Aizawa directly or if you were just letting thoughts fall out of your mind without restraint.

"Is that really what you want to do?" Years of teaching had given Aizawa a large handful of experiences, allowing him to meet students of all types who each suffered from something of their own. Of course he had known many who had fallen for this addiction, smoking without care. There were only a few, however, that actually wanted to drop it. "I'd be more than happy to guide you through it... I know it's redundant seeing as I'm still hooked myself, but I know I'm not ready yet..."

He looked up at you, surprised to see you looking right at him instead of the ground. "I've helped more than a few folks quit their habits, so I know a few things... If you want my help that is-"

Accidentally cutting Aizawa off by throwing yourself at him, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug of affection and regrown hope. He only chuckled, not the slightest upset, before hugging you back and patting you on the back a few times.

He had on the first soft smile of the night. "You sure you can handle it?" His voice was filled with concern, worried for how you'd handle the dark claws of addiction gnawing at you. He knew it was tough, because just as he said he himself had been in your very spot years before. He failed, but at least he knew he was content with where he stood.

"It's a difficult thing to give up, but if you really have your heart set on it, then I believe you. I'll help you through it as long as you're willing. And if you ever feel like giving up..." He paused for a second to get up and head back inside, helping to hoist you up as well.

After the back door to the balcony was open, he turned and smiled with a lighthearted wink.

"... Just remember why you wanted to quit in the first place."

A/N:

Again, I'm so sorry about the disappearance! I do hope this reaches out to the person that requested it... =͟͟͞͞(๑º ﾛ º๑)！！

Notes:

• Tags are okay with me! Just ask if you'd like to be tagged for something specific (like a specific genre, character, etc. Especially if you want to be tagged for either my art or my writing!). Once you do then I'll do my best to tag you appropriately! ✌️(˶｀‪‎‎ࠔ´˵)🙏( •∀< )👍

° Requests are open! Request rules are in my pinned post (I'm not that strict)! You can request and I'll do my best to write it, I just might take some time to do so. I promise I haven't deleted or forgotten anyone! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

♡That's all I have to say, other than that I hope everyone here has a lovely day/night! ( ⑉¯ ꇴ ¯⑉ )

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xcyphoz0a · 7 months

Text

My love all mine all mine

Gender neutral reader, angst TW/CW: Angst. . more angst. in poetry(i tried) Word count: 407 Proofread: n/a

| So, when I die, which I must do, Could it shine down here with you? 'Cause my love is mine, all mine |

“Don’t you wonder why he always keeps that little chain thing on his neck?”

“I think that’s supposed to be a locket, Paimon, maybe it contains something that he cherishes, who knows?”

The small floating white haired girl and the blonde traveller both make their way on the cobbled streets of Mondstadt.

“I wonder who’s so important to that tone deaf bard…”

“Who’s important to me?”

The small girl shrieks as she floats her way behind the traveller, eyes wide as she gawks at the green eyed boy in front of them.

“Venti! We were just talking about the necklace, that’s all.” The amber eyed speaks as Paimon floats back to the traveller’s side.

“Yeah! We were wondering what’s important to you, so…”

Venti’s face conjures up a nostalgic smile as he holds the small locket, the metallic material cooling his warm hand.

“This? I suppose I can tell you a story about it, now come with me, both of you. I wouldn’t want others to hear.”

The pair follows the bard as they walk outside of the walls of Mondstadt, crossing the bridge as they find a clearing in the forest.

The traveller and Paimon both sit on a stone, as they watch the dark blue haired boy bring out his lyre.

A wonderful being, filled with elation, a blessing to the city, a blessing to the gods, they walk the grounds alike to a feather, each step bringing grace and elegance.

They found me first, at the old tree, and who would’ve known, that I could fall in love?

Crystals as eyes, clear as ever, the shine and joy gave me warmth. We loved like the sun and the moon,

but alas, bliss must come to an end, when illness falls, alike to doom. A tribulation to a fragile being, I tried my best, to get them back.

Natheless, my efforts were in vain, as I saw them start to lose, they speak, that they’ll always be near,

‘twas the last I’ve heard, from my beloved.

And here we are, in a clearing– their wish, to dance without a care, as their memories lay in this locket.

His eyes dropped clear tears as he finishes, bowing to signal the end of his performance. Teal eyes move to look at the pair, as he sees the same emotion within himself in the two.

Venti smiles as he whispers,

“I hope, you’ve enjoyed my song, my love.”

#astronetwrk #smallcecilia work #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin angst #venti x reader #venti x y/n #venti angst

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summercreolefanfictioner · 2 years

Note

Ayato best friends with s/o headcanons please 🙏

buckle up your seats folks 'cause this is another one of my Wattpad-esque pov series ala diaboys (and yes I made the post gender-neutral cause anon did not specify any gender)

btw I highly recommend listening to the song cause it radiates falling in love with bff energy

pov: you're Ayato's bff (and you're in love with him)

youtube

they say the best foundation of any relationship is friendship, hence why you were so hopeful abt this thing you have w/ Ayato

yes we all know he annoys the sht out of you and everyone else

but you love him (even to the point of going out of your way to do favors for him)

Laito noticed how foolish you were, acting like a lap dog for his older bro even tho your efforts were in vain

heck you even tried dressing yourself up or changing your wardrobe or fixing your hairstyle

well he did notice you, but not like what you expect

"y/n, are you okay? you're dressing weirdly"

istg you don't wanna do it again so you spare yourself a bit of shame and revert back to your own style

and you know what's more painful than falling in love with Ayato as his BFF?

you have to deal with him ogling over those women with large cup sizes

like okay you think it's just a harmless crush from him no biggie

but sometimes he asks them out and you can't do anything abt it

like can you honestly tell him "I don't like you asking that girl out bcos I am helplessly in love with you and it's hurting me every single day to watch you ask someone else on a date when I am basically here"

you can't do that right?

it was only when you two were forced to a cleaning duty at the library that things changed

like you bumped into a bookshelf and he was fast enough to shield you from the falling books

and you two just looked straight into each other's eyes

the next thing your lips met and you spent the whole day thinking about how soft his lips were and how the kiss exceeded your expectations

you think everything was bliss, didn't you?

nah your romance affair thingy with Ayato ended before it started

after all he can't give you the life you deserve

he's a vampire but ofc you have no idea

plus he's Adam in Karlheinz's plan

you think his father will spare you just bcos his fated Adam had irrevocable feelings for a mortal who is not Eve?

tired of having your feelings unrequited for so long and him not taking the relationship to the next level, you decide to cut things off from Ayato

but ofc you knew deep down he will still be your first love

alexa play first love by utada hikaru

and even when you got married, had kids, turned into a wrinkly grandparent, you'll always have Ayato in your heart

so on your deathbed, there was a young man, with the same features as Ayato

you swear you were dreaming

bcos this man couldn't be Ayato

he held your hand and told you how he missed you so much and that he loves you with all his heart

"I'm sorry this was all I can give."

in the end you didn't care if this was Ayato or not bcos you were content with this happy ending

and yes, Ayato still remembered you up to this day

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ioag · 1 year

Text

Bolesław Leśmian - The Girl

Twelve brothers who believed in dreams, scouted a wall among phantasms; Beyond the wall there cried a voice - voice of a Girl long gone through chasms.

They fell in love with voice’s sound and with their own wishful believing, And tried to guess shape of her lips from how her song died out in grieving.

They said “she cries therefore she is” - and nothing else they said but wondered, They blessed the world with sign of cross - and then the world grew still and pondered.

The hammers held in hardened hands, they launched against the walls in clamor! And night was blind, and couldn’t tell: which part was man and which - the hammer?

“Let’s hurry and undo cold stone, before in death the Girl’s enrusted!” The youngest brother thus cried out - and in their hammers’ strength they trusted.

But all their efforts were in vain, their arms exertions and pain - futile! They sacrificed their bodies to the dream enticing, yet so brutal!

Their chests caved in, their bones crushed down, decayed their hands and faded faces… They died together in one day and shared one night’s eternal spaces.

But dead men’s shadows - my good Lord! - instead of stopping they persisted! And they went on, in eerie time - the hammers’ sounds continued, twisted.

They clanged ahead! And back they clashed! And upwards in resounding clamor! And night was blind, and couldn’t tell: which part was shade and which - the hammer?

“Let’s hurry and undo cold stone, before in death the Girl’s enrusted!” The youngest shadow thus cried out - and in their hammers’ strength they trusted.

But suddenly their strength had waned, night came and they were overpowered! And - since you never die enough - they died again, by dark devoured.

Never enough, never the way the moribund would want, departing!… Their substance - lost without a trace, their story closed instead of starting!

But stalwart hammers - my good Lord! - didn’t surrender to bereavement! And on their own they fought the wall, rumbling for naught but the achievement!

They rumbled forth through days and nights, sweating like humans do, through clamor! And night was blind, and couldn’t tell: what’s hammer if not just a hammer?

“Let’s hurry and undo cold stone, before in death the Girl’s enrusted!” The youngest hammer thus cried out - and in their own pure strength they trusted.

And the wall fell with booming crash, sounding through every nook and cranny! Alas! Beyond they found no Girl, only the waiting void; uncanny.

There was no eyes! There was no lips! Nobody’s fate needed securing! There was but voice - and only voice, nothing but voice tempting and luring!

Nothing but night, and cries, and grief, and loss in every uttered letter! This is the world! Such awful world! Couldn’t it have been different, better?

Against the dreams that lied out loud, against the wish obliterated, The hammers finally went to rest, relief deserved and so belated.

And there was silence all around! The emptiness reigning forever! Why do you mock that emptiness although it doesn’t mock you ever?

Translation: Maria Gral

#Poland #Polska #linguistics #poetry #poems #wiersze #Leśmian #Lesman #translation #writing #Irian writes stuff #signal boosts are deeply appreciated btw #Leśmian deserves to be read by the whole wide world #i.o.a.g.#veterinary #art #uvlight #veterinaryjobs #sunset

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burningvelvet · 1 year

Text

From Conversations of Lord Byron with the Countess of Blessington (1834; taken from her earlier collected diaries) — Byron talking about Percy and Mary Shelley:

“On looking out from the balcony this morning with Byron, I observed his countenance change, and an expression of deep sadness steal over it. After a few minutes' silence he pointed out to me a boat anchored to the right, as the one in which his friend Shelley went down, and he said the sight of it made him ill.—‘You should have known Shelley,’ said Byron, ‘to feel how much I must regret him. He was the most gentle, most amiable, and least worldly-minded person I ever met; full of delicacy, disinterested beyond all other men, and possessing a degree of genius, joined to a simplicity, as rare as it is admirable. He had formed to himself a beau idéal of all that is fine, high-minded, and noble, and he acted up to this ideal even to the very letter. He had a most brilliant imagination, but a total want of worldly-wisdom. I have seen nothing like him, and never shall again, I am certain. I never can forget the night that his poor wife rushed into my room at Pisa, with a face pale as marble, and terror impressed on her brow, demanding, with all the tragic impetuosity of grief and alarm, where was her husband! Vain were all our efforts to calm her; a desperate sort of courage seemed to give her energy to confront the horrible truth that awaited her; it was the courage of despair. I have seen nothing in tragedy on the stage so powerful, or so affecting, as her appearance, and it often presents itself to my memory. I knew nothing then of the catastrophe, but the vividness of her terror communicated itself to me, and I feared the worst, which fears were, alas! too soon fearfully realized. Mrs. Shelley is very clever, indeed it would be difficult for her not to be so; the daughter of Mary Wollstonecraft and Godwin, and the wife of Shelley, could be no common person.”

From The Life and Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley Vol. 2 — Mary describing the night she learned that Percy was lost at sea and went to Byron’s place — interestingly, she mentions details that Byron later recounted to Lady Blessington, giving credence to Blessington’s recollections, despite Blessington’s many other fabrications (including slander against Mary due to her own personal biases):

“Both Lord Byron and the lady have told me since, that on that terrific evening I looked more like a ghost than a woman—light seemed to emanate from my features; my face was very white; I looked like marble. Alas!”

#geneva squad #percy shelley #percy bysshe shelley #mary shelley #lord byron #lady blessington #regency era #romantic period #romanticism #romantic poetry #history #byron #shelley #literary history #literature

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padfootastic · 1 year

Text

hello! this is from a discord prompt by the wonderful @roalinda. it’s established (but hidden) jilypad where molly makes unnecessary comments; protective james & lily, and a sirius who gets loved & doted upon & kissed silly in front of everyone by his partners 🥰

“Times are grave, we must stand together and—“

James slowly slides his glasses off his face, massaging the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger in a vain effort to relieve the ache building behind his eyes. This is the fourth Order meeting of this month—it’s only the 16th—and it is shaping up to seem as pointless as the other ones.

When they’d joined the Order straight out of Hogwarts, it was with stars in their eyes and fire blazing in their veins. They were ready to fight for their lives and die for the cause. Now? James can’t wait to get out of here as soon as possible. If he wasn’t a part of this circus, he might actually have considered it a bit impressive, the way Dumbledore has managed to create an atmosphere so far removed from the terrible war being waged outside that they’ve ended up on the other end of the spectrum but alas—as it stands, James has to sit through the most boring, incompetent meetings known to wixenkind and his patience is running particularly low.

A hand coming to rest on his knee, hidden under the table, brings him out of his morose thoughts. He smiles instinctively, recognising the touch that he knows better than his own.

“I’m okay, Si,” he says, turning to his left where Sirius is looking at him, concerned. To anyone else, he’ll look exactly as he always does—blank face, hard eyes, lips in a straight line. James, however, can see the worry lining his face as if it were blaring on a muggle billboard.

“You’re sure?”

“Mhm. It’s just…y’know.” He tilts his head towards the gathered crowd, Dumbledore sermonising at the head of the table. The worry immediately turns into exasperation as Sirius’ eyes roll up slightly, making his own displeasure perfectly clear.

“—and of course, the Potters have volunteered to travel around the Continent to talk to the Giants. I’m sure I don’t have to explain why it’s absolutely crucial to the war effort that they be our allies or, at the very least, agree to neutrality.”

“Er, Professor?” Lily raises her hand like she’s still in school and James just knows he’s doing the heart-eyes thing everyone teases him for but he can’t help it. A raised hand. Merlin, this woman. “Sirius will be coming with us too, of course.”

James can—and will—kiss her soundly for phrasing it like a statement, not a question. He knows for a fact they’d mentioned this before, when Dumbledore had first called them to talk about it. Mighty convenient of him to leave it out in his official announcement now.

Sure enough, a very subtle wrinkling of the old man’s brow sufficiently expressed his opinion of the idea. “Lily, my dear, are you sure that’s—“

“Yes, of course, Professor,” she says sweetly, “We’ve made all the arrangements, you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“What use would Black be, anyway, other than partying his way through Eastern Europe?” someone mutters in an undertone that’s very clearly heard across the room. Sirius’ hand tightening on his knee is the only thing stopping James from physically growling out loud.

“I realise you’re a bit…slow on the uptake, Mr. Diggle, but I assure you, Sirius is probably the best negotiator this side of the ocean,” Lily shoots back before adding suggestively, “And that’s not to even mention all the other skills he has.”

Sirius, who stays quiet in times like these (unfortunately too frequent nowadays, with suspicion and paranoia on the rise), is giving his own impeccable pair of heart eyes to their girlfriend.

“Now, now, we are all adults here,” Dumbledore says sternly, only entering after the conflict ends per usual. “There’s no need to devolve into name-calling or taunts”—with a pointed look at Lily—“and Daedalus, I understand your concern, but we cannot stop them from taking Sirius with them.”

The condescension in his voice, the implication that Sirius is nothing but a house pet lugged around by his friends—as if he’s not the best of them all—makes James’ teeth grit. It is only by sheer willpower that he manages a, “That’s very kind of you, Professor. Thank you.”

Later, when the meeting is over and they’re all scattered around the living room—the three of them are in one corner with James ranting to a similarly peeved Lily and a secretly-pleased Siriuswho pretends he doesn’t care. But James knows, has seen first hand how deep the words cut into him. He doesn’t ever want to see him bleed again.

“And the sheer audacity of him to say—Si, if you hadn’t stopped me, I swear.”

“That’s exactly why I did it, Prongs.” Sirius shrugs.

“Personally, I think every one of these idiots deserve whatever James wants to do to them,” Lily adds with a vindictive scowl of her own. It’s not just him that’s fed up with the way people in the Order keep treating their Sirius.

“You really want to let a wild James Potter loose on them, Lilypad?” Sirius asks, one eyebrow arched high in surprise. “You hate them that much?”

“Oi!”

“Yes.”

James and Lily speak at the same time, words overlapping and intentions clashing, causing Sirius to break out in his signature bark-like laughter. James can’t even hold on to his indignation in the face of it, helpless to do anything except lean forward, enthralled by the way his grey eyes soften with joy.

It’s then that a thoroughly unpleasant voice breaks into their moment.

“James, Lily, oh there you are, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Molly Weasley calls out to them, weaving her way through the crowd. She has her signature smile on, though it falls a bit flat when her eyes land on Sirius.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course, Molly, is everything okay?” James asks. He can’t see any of the Weasley kids around her but it’s not uncommon for her to hand them off to someone or the other. James gets it, truly. Merlin knows he would’ve gone already round the bend if he had to deal with a brood like that.

“Yes, yes, nothing of that sort, just…a word?” Her head moves in a weird way and it takes him a few seconds to decipher the action. She’s signalling towards the other end of the room, though it doesn’t offer him any more clarity than that.

“I’m sure we can talk right here, Molly.” Lily, of course, is much quicker on picking up the subtext. “It’s just Sirius, no one else can hear us.”

“Yes, well, that’s the problem, isn’t it,” Molly mutters under her breath and before James can even begin to figure out where that came from, she’s speaking again. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Molly, please,” Sirius sighs, like he knows what’s coming. “Let’s not do this, not here.”

“I’m only here to talk. To James and Lily,” Molly replies stiffly, not even looking in his direction. Instead she turns to James, a painfully insincere look of concern on her face. It immediately puts him on the defensive.

“James, dear, don’t you think it’s a bit…inappropriate, the way you keep going?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice is hard, unyielding. “The way we keep going?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, I’m only trying to help,” she waves an airy hand, unbothered by the daggers shooting out of his eyes. “I know you and…Sirius are good friends, but all this—really, you have such a lovely girlfriend, have you ever thought of how she must feel when you keep dragging him around with you?”

James’ eyes bug right out of their sockets at the sheer audacity of her words. Did she just—

It doesn’t seem to faze her, his reaction, because she’s clearly on a mission. James wonders, a little hysterically, if they had a vote for this—this intervention and she’s the candidate who won. “A man and a woman need some time of their own, I’m sure you’ll realise the importance of it once you’re older but it’ll have been too late by then.”

“Molly,” he starts, in an impressively even voice, he thinks, “I’m afraid that our relationship is none of your business. I assure you we’re doing perfectly well.”

“Oh, you don’t have to be like that, James,” she tsks, “We’re all looking out for each other here—“

“Excuse me,” Lily cuts in, her temper ice cold and chilling against James’ burning rage. “Sirius is our—“

“Lily, it’s not your duty to keep putting up with every little fancy your boyfriend has. A girl must put her foot down sometimes.” Molly’s countenance has turned sympathetic now, and it does nothing to calm James down. He can see her doubling down, knows logic and reason will go well over her head.

There’s only one thing to do then, nothing for it. He turns towards Sirius, who’s been sitting in his armchair with his back ramrod straight and eyes straight forward. His heart aches at seeing Sirius withdraw into himself—James has tried hard, so hard, but words spoken in bitterness and cruelty always have that effect on him, taking him back to a time he’s spent this whole life running away from. It’s absolutely unacceptable that it happen to him now, when he’s surrounded by people supposed to be on their side, in a place that should’ve been safe.

Lily is speaking, something about privacy and boundaries and knowing when to shut the hell up (he’ll have to get the whole speech from her later, it sounds beautiful), and he simply steps over to Sirius, bending down until he’s right in front of him, a hairsbreadth away, like he was trying to do before they were rudely interrupted.

“James?” Sirius breathes, uncertain. He knows it’s because this isn’t planned—they’d decided to keep their relationship…not hidden, but away from other people. It’s unconventional, and they didn’t want to add more complications on top of everything else. Fighting the world on one axis is exhausting enough.

“I’ve got you, my love,” he whispers before closing the distance between them. The first press of their lips and everything—Molly, the rest of the Order, even Lily’s surprised gasp—falls away until his world narrows into a single point - Sirius - as it always does. His hands are cradling Sirius’ face, fingers softly stroking the sensitive skin below his ears—a move that he knows drives him crazy.

Sirius, for his part, gets over his own shock remarkably quickly to give as good as he gets. His hands are bunched in fists in the front of James’ jumper, almost desperately, and the longer they kiss, the rougher it gets.

A delicate cough—Lily—makes them slowly pull apart, but not before James leans back in for another quick peck. Sirius’ lips are slick, a bit swollen, and it’s the most tempting thing James has ever seen. He wants to damn this place and Apparate him straight into their bedroom but he just barely stops himself.

For one, Lily must’ve had a reason for interrupting; she usually enjoys watching them too much to do that. Besides, if he leaves without her, she’ll be pissed and he has no interest in being on the other end of her creative punishments. Not after the last time.

“James—you—that’s—,” seems like Molly can do nothing but splutter at his, perhaps excessive, display. Well, he maintains it was necessary. “Lily!” Molly turns to her, perhaps expecting similar shock, or anger, or hurt?

She’ll be sorely disappointed, of course, because Lily has the most predatory look out of the three of them. In her smartest decision of the evening, she decides to completely ignore Molly and makes her way over to them. A hand on James’ chest gently pushes him back, just enough that she can comfortably climb onto a now-thoroughly-shellshocked Sirius’ lap.

“What, did you think I wouldn’t want my chance?” she winks before wrapping her arms around Sirius’ neck and kissing him with no less passion than James just a minute ago.

This time, he has the distinct pleasure of being able to watch not just his partners but everyone’s reactions as well. Molly seems to have just…stopped working. He doesn’t know if it’s from the shock of both of them, in an established relationship, kissing someone; or that it’s happening in such a public setting; or, and this one comes from a darker corner of his mind, that it’s Sirius being kissed silly.

Dumbledore looks like his beloved lemon drop has gotten stuck in his throat and those in his immediate surroundings aren’t any better. Professor McGongall has a resigned, but entirely unsurprised, expression and James tips his head in an imaginary salute towards her.

Everyone else is somewhere on the spectrum between shocked and aghast. It’s wonderful. Exactly the kind of chaos James has been itching to stir up in these meetings.

By the time he completes his leisurely perusal and comes back to the scene in front of him, Lily has still not let go of Sirius. Her mouth is attacking his neck now, bright red lip stains and darkening bruises already visible, and Sirius’ hand is inching dangerously close to her neckline. Her previously-completely-buttoned-up-neckline that is now somehow half open. Funny, that.

“Oi,” James calls out, placing a warning hand on Lily’s leg, not because he’s worried they’re becoming too exhibitionist, but because he’s hard enough to pound nails right now and he would really like to get out of here and join the fun himself, please and thank you.

With a lazy, sultry smile, Lily pulls back. Her lipstick is smudged to high heaven and she looks entirely debauched and for James, she’s never been more beautiful than when she’s ravishing their boyfriend after vehemently defending him. Sirius’ eyes are unfocused, and he’s perhaps even more debauched. James can look at him like this forever.

“Like I was saying,” Lily says, all prim like she’s not sitting on one of her boyfriend’s lap while the other is possessively gripping her inner thigh, like she didn’t just participate in possibly the hottest moment of every sad sod in this room’s life. “Sirius is our partner and we very well know how to look out for each other.”

James seals the words with a kiss of his own, savouring the taste of both his partners on her lips.

#james potter #sirius black #lily evans #jilypad #dude i’m so obsessed w possessive james #and publicly staking claim on ur partner #it’s so !!!#also this is anti molly lol #i just. really don’t like her #this one also very neatly tied into my long term HC that molly didn’t like the marauders #and disapproved of their lifestyle and attitudes #but yeah #i had so much fun w this!!!#lily *devouring* sirius while j stares in lust and everyone else is horrified/shocked/scandalised is *chefs kiss*#j/l/s’ disdain towards the order is my wish fulfilment coming in #their absolutely incompetent ass however is totally canon #ik sirius is very passive in this but that’s just bc i wanted him to be taken care of ykno?#he makes his presence known dw #i also really leaned into he whole ‘suspected bc of his family during the first war’ thing that we’ve been talking about here #and it’s not bad. not bad at all #anyway! tell me what u think #should i upload it on ao3. should i post it on glimpses of us or a new work #should i leave it be #gimme thoughts and ideas friends #pen’s writing

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acknowledgetheabsurd · 1 year

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It is 10 o'clock. I'm still in bed listening to music and talking to you at random. Talking to you? Alas, no. The time for the long monologue that I had so dreaded has arrived. Am I a monster, my dear love, or are we all entitled, as long as we are, to this unimaginable power of oblivion? Here you are gone from my eyes, from my hands, from my mouth. Here you are torn from me, for many days, leaving me incomplete, mutilated for many weeks to come. There are your letters again that almost recreate you and give you back almost entirely to me, putting you back in your place; but when I am deprived of them - as yesterday and today, you irremediably escape me, leaving me, in all my being, a lack towards which I am nothing more than a desperate stretch, an empty space that nothing can fill and behind which I can guess you.

Then, it is boredom, the dreadful boredom. Frozen, foreign to everything and to myself, I try to use all my strength, all my energies to find your image and with the joys you bring me, the pain, and this marvelous nostalgia that is sometimes born from our separation. Alas! This time the absence was renewed too quickly, it is also too prolonged and I have been given lately to feel too much, to live too intensely; perhaps it is this and the weariness where I am, and a kind of laziness of heart and soul, I do not know; what I am sure of is that my efforts are often in vain, that something in me refuses to live outside of your presence for good and for evil and that the only desire that remains constant in me these last few days is the desire for a continuous sleep until the end of my life.

When you return, the desire to forget myself completely until you come to give me a real existence, is the desire, finally, for a night prolonged until the morning when your warmth once again comes to wake me up. Do you understand, my darling? Do you understand this inanimate state, this long, sterile impulse, this withdrawal into emptiness, this constant and constantly renewed effort not to succumb to the lethargy? Oh, darling! Your position. He sings. He calls me to order. My love! You're here! You're here, all alive, sitting next to me at this quixotic turn of phrase. Your beautiful clear eyes on me! My love. My love. Your pale hand that shakes demanding mine. Larare Carare! That's where you were waiting for me this morning. Darling! My life!

All of you that I know well are suddenly jostling around me and I don't know what to hold, what to keep in me, if this clear and straight look, if these three little pleading wrinkles between your eyebrows, if this hand that calls, if this lip that I want to touch, if, if... Ah! you, my love. Here! A shy ray of sunshine on the little flower armchair - I am definitely being filled this morning! And you! What are you doing? What have you become? Nothing about you, my love, since Friday morning. What are you thinking about? Are the olive trees still disguised as ghosts? Nothing; I know nothing and my long day yesterday was spent waiting. But it's late. I have to get up. See you tonight, my love. Have a good Sunday. I love you so much.

Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, January 29, 1950 [#154]

#albert camus #camus #absurd #absurdism #correspondance #maria casares #love letters #love #escape #empty #strength #joy #nostalgia #separation #heart #soul #desire #sleep #life #existence #emptiness

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ellenya · 8 months

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One day, one rhyme- Day 3573

I made a boat of lettuce leaves,

I laid it in the lake.

I hopped aboard- alas, alack

The water it did take.

I sought something with which to bail-

A bucket, scoop or cup.

My frantic efforts were in vain

And then I did wake up…

#rhyme #poetry #poets corner #poets on tumblr #twcpoetry #short rhyme #onedayonerhyme

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thank-barbatos · 2 years

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Happy birthday, My Lovely Bard

Venti x Reader

A/n: Happy birthday to my favourite and very lovable bard! This fic ended up being 7 pages long. I think my love for Venti really shines through here. There are some spoilers about his character story, but if you’re reading this, you probably already know Venti’s entire story~ Enjoy!~

You awoke to the sun rising and shining through the curtains of your house, with the sounds of birds gleefully chirping as the morning dew spread across Mondstadt, signalling the start of a new day. The air was fresh, and the skies were blue and showed promises of a beautiful day. The breeze had a gentle caress to it, beckoning the people who resided in the land of the wind to come out and start their day.

It was all just as well and perfect, considering today was the birthday of your beloved boyfriend. You had every intention to ensure that he would be having the perfect day with you, and you had made preparations in advance to achieve your goal. Smiling, you looked at the bard who was still sleeping and held him closer, one of your hands reaching up to gently play with his hair. It was so smooth, and the blue in it was alluring to look at.

You heard a small yawn as his eyes slowly opened up to look at you, as though he had felt you staring at him, he drowsily smiled at you, “Good morning windblume, admiring a piece of art?” he asked teasingly as he snuggled himself up to you, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Good morning my love, perhaps I should be getting charged museum fees for waking up to such a delicate piece of art every morning.” You joked as you playfully tangled your legs up with his own. “Happy birthday, Venti. Let’s spend the day together to celebrate it.” you simply said before leaning in to place a kiss on his lips.

He hummed in response, as he returned the kiss, “I intended to spend the day with you anyways, you’re not getting away from me on my birthday!” he laughed as he poked your sides to tickle you. You gasped and squirmed to get away from his hands which were now making their ticklish assault on you.

“Woah, woah, Venti, my love, my wind, my air, there’s no need to torture me so early in the day! Mercy, mercy I say!” You dramatically squeaked out as laughter escaped your lips. He continued to tickle you, with your hands feebly attempting to push his own away in hopes of putting a stop to his attack on you; alas, such an effort was in vain as his hands were more agile and persistent than yours.

Eventually, once he felt like he heard his fill of your sweet laughter, he stopped tickling you and rubbed your sides in a soothing manner as though he was apologizing for making you laugh so much; though you’re very much sure that he’s not sorry for it at all in even the slightest.

“Come on, we should get up.” you said after catching your breath.

He pouted and shook his head, “Nope, I wanna lay with you just a little longer! I wanna cuddle. Please?~” He asked, showing you his best display of puppy eyes that he could muster.

“Well, how can I say no to a face like that?” you chuckled as you leaned back into his embrace, “But what about breakfast? Are you not hungry?” you asked, poking his stomach as if prodding it for answers.

“Nope!~ Well, maybe a bit hungry- Ah, but if you need a meal because you’re hungry, then I’m here, I’m the meal.” He laughed and afterwards puckered out his lips for more kisses, as though his kisses would satisfy your hunger for food. You indulged him, and pecked his lips before leaning to the side and gently biting his soft and slightly plump cheek.

“Well, if you insist, then I guess I’ll start by eating your cheeks.” He gasped in betrayal and pushed you away from his face, “Nooooo, how could you betray me like this!? Was my kiss not filling enough? Windblume, you hurt my heart!”

You cackled out a loud laugh as you gently smacked his butt, which he quickly returned the favour before his stomach grumbled and he sat up. “Alright, I guess I’m more hungry than I let on. Ehe~ I just wanted to hold you a little longer.” He smiled softly down at you, as you slowly rose as well, getting up from the bed and holding your hands out for him to take as you pulled him up with you, chests bumping against each other.

“Don’t worry, I promise there’ll be plenty of cuddling today, and more.” you pulled him along with you to the kitchen.

“I have to say, I’m quite curious as to what you have planned today. Do I get any hints? Spoilers?” He asked as he sat down at the table as he watched you open the fridge and have a look at what to make for breakfast.

“Yeah, it’ll be great; I’ll start your day off by feeding you your absolute favourite; cheese pancakes, and after that I’ll take you to Jean to go over a book of Mondstadt gliding laws, and once you have that down, I’ll take you to cat’s tail to pet some cats as we drink some non-alcoholic beverages.” You joked as you pulled cheese out of the fridge as if to show him you were serious.

He gasped and pretended to sob out in despair, “I can’t believe you would do all of that to me, that you would make me suffer so much in one day! Did I wrong you somehow last night? Did I snore too loudly?!”

You giggled at his dramatics before putting the cheese away, and instead started pulling out some fruits. “Well, your snoring was a bit obnoxious last night- maybe I really should do all of that.” You flashed a loving smile at him before you started putting together a simple breakfast fruit parfait for the two of you.

Bringing the dish over to the table and sitting in your own seat, you slid one of the portions over to him and the two of you proceeded to start eating it.

“To be honest though, a lot of the stuff I have planned for today are just small and little things. It’s nothing big or crazy, but I think you’ll enjoy the day. I hope you do, at least.” You said as you were eating your dish.

“I’m sure anything you have planned will be great; what’s important is that we’re spending the day together! I mean, we could literally just go to steal some wine from the dawn winery today and I’d be happy with just that!” He let out a giggle as he recalled the amount of times that he had in the past stolen some grapes and wine from the place; of course he got in trouble for it, but according to him, it was well worth it.

“Well, for Diluc’s sake, we will not be stealing from his winery today.” you laughed before continuing, “But rest be assured, there will be wine today. Just not stolen wine, what kind of crook do you take me for?” You grinned knowingly at him.

“Calling me a crook on my birthday? Why, I was simply sampling the wine and the fresh produce from the winery! I was simply doing them a favour, what feedback could be more important than that of a repeating customers’ feedback?”

You shook your head and stood up, taking the finished bowls to the since and washing them clean, “Nevermind all of that, let’s get ready and head out. We’re gonna go wind gliding, it’s the perfect day for it!” You gestured with your head out the window for him to see the clear blue skies and pleasant breeze that graced the day.

The two of you finished getting ready and left your humble abode to enjoy the outdoors, as you headed towards Cape Oath to take advantage of the large cliff height to dive down and go for a long pleasant glide over different areas in Mondstadt. The two of you had some races with each other; Venti of course winning every single race as you tried to call him out on cheating for using his anemo powers to push himself forward. He would simply laugh and say that he wasn’t doing it, it was the wind.

“Just because you’re the anemo archon doesn’t mean you can go around using the wind in your favour.” you stuck your tongue out at him and playfully pouted.

“Oh? But the wind is in my favour! Ah, but don’t worry, my cute little windblume, it’s in your favour too, just watch!” And with that you felt a heavy gust lift you up off the ground and into the air.

“Woah! Wait, put me down, I wasn’t ready!” you panicked as he let out a giggle before using his powers to project himself into the air as he reached out and held your hand.

“Don’t worry, I promise I won’t let you fall. You’ll be safe as long as I’m here.” he smiled reassuringly and you took a deep breath and nodded. You trusted him; with your life and heart. You knew he’d never do anything that would put you in danger, the suddenness just caught you off guard.

“I know, I feel safe when I’m with you, regardless of what everyone else says about you being irresponsible, I know you’ll always be here by my side to keep me safe.” taking advantage of your linked hands, you pulled him in and planted a kiss on his cheek, and once more again on his lips.

Once the two of you landed from mid-air, you suggested heading back to Mondstadt to get some lunch at Good Hunter, since it was noon and you were getting hungry. He agreed that it was a good idea, and the two of you headed there and ordered food.

“You know, originally I was planning to make lunch for you today too, but I figured that this might be better so that the things I have planned for later might seem a bit more special. Having home made food usually seems more intimate since you know the other person put effort into it, but you already knew that.” You explained to him as the two of you were sitting at the table and waiting for your meals to arrive.

“Even sitting down for a meal like this with you is special to me. I wanna save every moment we have together in my memories and heart. Maybe I’ll write a song about this all later, you know!” He replied as the food arrived and the two of you started eating.

“Oh? I’d love to know how a song like that would go, if you’re writing about eating at a restaurant with me. Maybe it’d be something like,

The bard and his lover went out to eat,

She then dropped on him some sick beats.

He laughed out with a merry joy,

She was desperate for the heart of this boy.”

You laughed at your poor attempt at writing a verse for a song; which quite frankly, was just poor poetry that you decided to add a tune to.

“You already have my heart even without doing that but you know, we could be a duo; you can sing that at taverns while I play my lyre.” He grinned at you teasingly.

“Yeah, and everyone in Mondstadt will say: “The bard is great, but who is that terrible singer and lyricist?” and I’ll have tomatoes thrown at me.” You joked back at him.

“Ah, but people at taverns just want entertainment! We said nothing about providing them good entertainment!” He winked at you, slapping on his signature “ehe!~” at the end.

You simply let out a chuckle and shook your head as you both finished your meals and you paid for the bill. The two of you got up afterwards and decided to take a walk around Windrise together.

“You know, I’ve always liked walking around here. I mean, before we even met too. There’s just something that seems so serene and relaxing about Windrise. Somehow the air feels more free and clean, and it has a very… refreshing feeling to the area.” You spoke as you walked along with him, watching the crystal flies fly around Vennessa’s tree, freely and happily, adding a beautiful glow to the area. It felt so picturesque that no matter how many times you’ve seen it, it still leaves you in awe from the sheer beauty.

“I know what you mean. I’ve always said that I feel like I’m being healed whenever I come here; standing or sitting under the tree in particular has always been my favourite spot. It feels like your soul is being healed, right?” You nodded in agreement with his statement as you both made your way over and sat down under the giant tree.

You looked up and took in a deep breath as you watched the wind caress the leaves of the tree, making them rustle, and it felt like music was filling your ears. The sound of nature, the sound of the wind, bringing and giving life to everything around you. Dandelion seeds floated around in the wind, going on their own journey to find their own new homes. The windwheel asters looked so beautiful as their petals spun in the wind, and all around you, you could smell the fresh greenery.

“It really does feel that way. I really love the way that you shaped Mondstadt to be. It feels so… alive. It’s hard to put into words how I feel about it, but I’m thankful all the same.” You leaned your head on his shoulder and rested on it as you closed your eyes, truly trying to take everything in to its fullest extent.

“I’m glad you feel that way. I wanted everything to feel open and free, I wanted people to be able to enjoy looking at the world around them. The blue skies, the green grass, the flowers, everything. It’s what the people of old Mondstadt would have loved to see. He would have loved to see this all too.” He explained as he leaned his head against yours, resting with you.

You could only nod a bit in agreement, “I’m sure he would have. I’m sure everyone would have.” you reached out to hold his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He interlocked your fingers and gently squeezed your hand back, taking comfort in your presence.

The two of you basked in the sunlight at Windrise for a couple of hours, talking silently to one another at times, sitting in silence at others, and even taking a nap at one point as you both just enjoyed being able to be with each other.

After a while, you got up and held your hand out to him, “Come on, there’s one last area I’d like to take you- ah, but we need to pick up a basket from home first.”

You both headed back to the house to pick up the basket mentioned, and you did a quick check to make sure that it had everything in it, all while making sure that Venti didn’t get a peek in as to what you had for him.

“Alright, we’re ready to go, I have everything all packed up and set, so everything should be nice and secure in here.” You smiled and held the basket in one hand and took his hand in your other one once more again and started to lead him to the final destination.

“You know, I didn’t think you would take me here. I thought you’d be more cheesy and take me to Starsnatch Cliff or something, since so many lovers go there.” He said as he looked at the ruins that surrounded the two of you; the ruins of old Mondstadt as the two of you sat on one of the higher areas, close to where Dvalin was resting.

You had set out a blanket for the two of you to sit on and pulled out two wine glasses as well as a bottle of chilled dandelion wine and popped it open, pouring the two glasses half way full for the both of you. The two of you clinked your glasses together for a cheers, as you took as sip, while he took a couple of gulps.

“Admittedly, I did think about going there at first. But I thought it would be more meaningful to come here. Especially with the gifts I’m planning on giving you.” You reached into the basket and pulled out two neatly wrapped gift boxes. One of them was much larger than the other.

“It’s not much, since both of these gifts are handmade, but I really hope you like them regardless of their value.” You handed both boxes over to him, and he unwrapped the bigger one first. Inside of it, he found a leather book, and upon opening it, he found that it was filled with pictures and paragraphs all put together lovingly.

“You’ve told me before about how you don’t remember everything from back then, since it was so long ago. And that everything felt like it was fading away to time. So I thought that if I put together a journal of our time together, we could have the memories forever. You have pictures and words now to help you remember everything.” You explained as he slowly flipped through the book, looking at each page, taking it all in. You truly had logged down the highlights of your days together. He could even spot some pressed and dried flowers attached to the book, as well as other unique trinkets that the two of you have come across together. He could feel his heart warm at the sincerity and love put into the gift.

“Thank you, it means a lot to me. Now we can go back to those moments in time whenever we want and remember it exactly like how it was.” He smiled softly at you, and placed the book down before starting to open the smaller box.

Within this box was a tiny brooch in the shape of a cecilia, it had some small imperfections on it, but in Venti’s eyes it was perfect as it was because it came from you.

“It’s not perfect, and it wasn’t easy to make, but you have a lot of little charms on you, so I figured that adding a small little brooch to the front of your cape wouldn’t be the biggest crime in the world. But also because cecilias only grow and thrive on the mountains where the wind is at its strongest. I felt like it was a good way to represent you, and… because the cecilia looks like the sign of the resistance from back then, when the people here defeated Decarabian, and took charge of their own freedom. I did my research you know- not just based on what you’ve told me, but I also spent some time in the library. I wanted to bring you a meaningful gift.” You watched him examine the brooch before he clipped it onto the left side of his cape, close to where his heart would be.

“He wore something like this, you know- the nameless bard- right here where I’ve put it. The sign that you speak of does look like a cecilia, because it is one. Thank you. This gift is- it’s perfect. Now I have another way to remember him, while at the same time having a piece of you with me at all times.” His voice was full of emotion as he looked at you, he was truly touched by your actions.

“You put a lot of thought into this; I wasn’t expecting such a personal gift. It means a lot to me, and I’ll treasure both items with me forever.”

You smiled and gently pulled him over towards you and into a hug to embrace him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, taking in your warmth.

“Happy birthday, Venti- no, Barbatos. I promise that I’ll be by your side for as long as the world allows me to be here. I love you so very much.” You leaned back a bit before kissing him on the cheek.

“Thank you- it’s been the best birthday I’ve had in a long, long time. I love you too. This day wouldn’t have been so amazing without you by my side.” He then pulled you into a slow and loving kiss, to convey all of his love and gratefulness into one place.

“Why don’t we just sit here, and enjoy the night together to some dandelion wine and cake?” You asked, after the two of you pulled away. You took out a tray from the basket containing an apple and cinnamon cake and cut it up into slices for ease of eating.

“There’s nothing else in the world I would want more than that right now, windblume.”

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 7 months

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Iteration - a Malevolent fic, epilogue

John has been poisoned. Who did it? Unknown. How can he be saved? If not for Arthur, he wouldn't.

The ripples from this event hit far distant shores, and no one will come out of it unchanged.

Part 100 of the Surrogate series.

AO3 - epilogue

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The poison was a mystery, and apparently, would always be. This… This would not do.

A spell to activate it was clever. The description of a sauce didn’t make sense, initially, but a magic surge to specifically catalyze the poison into its active form? Absolutely brilliant. Which made sense, given whom she thought had made it.

The Keeper had observed the tiny, frail, twitching piece of magic for hours, dissecting it thread by thread, vivisecting this unthinking, unfeeling living spell so she could see the ways each bit of magic interconnected. There, a specific intent to precipitate one ingredient into a solid from its dissolved state; there, a flash of energy directed just so to charge the particles in question, activating the magical cascade that chewed away at the injured fragments of gods and shunted them out, away, gone.

But fascinating as it was, she had pieces of a puzzle that were not complete. Dagon could not give her a name for the poison, and didn’t know how it was made. She’d paced, and brooded, and researched, and considered asking Dagon for every antidote he could cook up that might clue her in (damn the price!), but it wasn’t enough.

That’s when she heard the whistling.

Sharp, clever, perfectly on-pitch, yet absolutely chaotic in its purported melody. It was very clearly Kayne, in the Scriptorium, doing… something?

Whatever he was doing, he was bringing it her way.

And he was a mess.

Torn. Bloodied. He stopped whistling to grin at her like some rabid coyote, and then resumed, walking forward. His ichor was eating holes in the floor.

“Kayne!” She couldn’t quite keep herself from being bright and bubbly, the intrigue and the questions and the mystery and the need roiling together into a sound like teeth gnashing in delight upon seeing a meal. “Where are you going? What are you doing? Did you see what happened?”

“Heeeey, baby sis!” he said with a wave (flinging more ichor, which sizzled and spit as it ate into whatever it touched). “Got you a present! Oh wait, gotta finish my performance, ahem, ah… oooooooh!” He pressed the back of his ichor-dark hand to his forehead and threw his head back like some damsel in a movie. “Alas, I am done for!” And with all the drama of a thousand cats, he flopped onto his back on the floor.

She watched, silent and still, for a long second.

Wait. That was her cue!

“Oh no!” she cried, sweeping to his side, kneeling and pulling his limp form onto her lap. “My dearest brother, struck down but steadfast to return unto me! Pray tell, Kayne, speak softly to me; tell me your efforts were not in vain, so I may avenge thee!”

He gave her the most exaggerated wink. “No need, fair one, for I have avenged mineself!” He paused. “Myself? Mine… self? Well, either way, I actually didn’t do that, but I did getcha a present.” He held up a small, square crystal.

Inside, etched into the glass, was a recipe.

“I put on a show,” he said.

She gasped, soft, reverent, taking the crystal and rotating it in her hands to see every angle, the words trying to crawl from her sight but pinned in place. This was it. The poison. This was it! “Really? For me?”

“Well,” he said, and though he was grinning, his voice dropped into a terrible register. “I might’ve needed to remind someone not to fuck with my show, and also wanted them to think that they could fight me off.” He rolled his eyes back, and for a moment, aped dead, tongue improbably long and hanging out of his mouth. Then he grinned at her again. “I was just such a pain in the ass that he gave me the damned recipe to make me go away.” He cackled.

She grappled him within all four of her arms (and about five more for good measure), clutching him tight to her chest. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I need to tell Dagon right away. Everything was so muted and mixed with the interference I couldn’t tell—thank you!” And then she paused, hands ruffling his mussed and bloodied hair. “Do you need to be healed? A silly question, I know, but I can at least fix up your guise for you.”

“Weeeell…” Somehow, he did puppy eyes. “I can do it myself, buuuuut….” And he arched dramatically over her skirt-covered knees. “Oh, alas, I gots a owie…”

She pulled out a black silk handkerchief and tenderly daubed at his brow, power thrumming as his guise knit back together, leaving clean streaks of unblemished skin amidst the ichor that coated him. “But… why walk away?” She asked, torn flesh knitting back together under her ministrations. “This… you caught him, fair and square. He tried to kill your stars. Why let him go? Why not really make him suffer for it?”

That smile was worse, poisonous, dark, hungry. “Because it wouldn’t be enough, doll. There is a fucking reason no one has tried to go against me in millennia, and our brother… our fool of a sibling… thinks that reason doesn’t apply to him.” He stretched. “I mean, sure, he could quit now, but we both know he won’t. And sure, I could have called him on it now, but who the fuck cares? It’s just two gods squabbling over mortal toys. Nothing interesting about it. But.” He wriggled. “Oh, oh, oh, this? This is a fuckin’ guillotine of his own making. I’m not just gonna stop him. I’m not just gonna call him out. I am gonna humiliate him, hurt him, fucking castrate him, and do it all in such a way that he won’t stick his bleeding dicks out of his lab again for a million fuckin’ years. Even letting him pick me apart tonight was all steps on that road. I want him to think he can hurt me. When that axe falls, doll… it’s gonna be memorable.” He laughed, a sanity-shredding sound to match that smile. “They might even end up writing songs about it.” He suddenly drooped again. “Woe is me! I got bited. For He Was Just Too Much.”

“Oh nooooo,” the Keeper said, keeping up with the dramatics (if only just) while her mind clicked and whirred. “I… I see. It’s not about… them. It’s about making an impression.”

It did not feel good to say. She liked them. Her hearts hurt.

But that didn’t matter; her brother’s games were his own, and she could respect the main drive behind it. She was not his keeper (hehe), and neither was he hers. And wasn’t this a better solution, anyway? In the long run, this would keep him from sniffing at her door before long.

(She was, still, deeply angry about the incident at the House of the Worm. The servants of that awful sibling had stolen things right under her nose, and destroyed knowledge in the process. But that was her axe to grind, and she would not ask Kayne to heft it for her.)

“Humans have an expression I like,” he said. “‘An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.’ Teach a lesson good enough, you’ve only got to teach it once.” He wriggled again, settling on and in her lap like a cat. “I hope you like the recipe. Wasn’t why I went, but you know. Thought of you, and I was already there.”

“Don’t read my mind,” she huffed, but there was no force behind the words, merely a childish whine. “I really needed this. Both for your purposes, and… It doesn’t get much more rare than this.” Her voice was hushed. “I’ll get your show back on the road soon. Promise.”

“Aww, you don’t gotta, but thanks. They’ll manage.” He grinned. “So you like your present? Huh? Huh? Who’s the best older brother? I am!”

“You are!” She lifted him into the air, spun him, and brought him back into a crushing hug. “I love it, Kayne, I do. You’re the best. And, well, I will shortly be paid for the antidote, once I can confirm with Dagon. This is so helpful.”

“Ha,” Kayne said at her, at everybody, at nobody, and enjoyed being fussed over until he got bored.

Hastur tried to be a good god. Just. Right. According to his own code, anyway. But this…

This wasn’t the right thing to do. Yet… it was the right thing to do.

It was true that Bh’tnnkr’nuah would never leave those mines. He couldn’t; if anyone saw him again, it would be saying Hastur was weak, or hadn’t meant his word, or wouldn’t pursue suffering in exchange for wicked deeds.

But some part of Hastur understood. Understood this fool who’d thrown everything away for the sake of…

Of course he knew where the mate and daughter went. They weren’t hard to find. And he didn’t have to let them know he was the one who set up communications so these three could talk, see each other’s faces every night, even if they were separated by entire worlds.

The communication crystals were from his treasury, and marked when sent as final wages, paid in full, to be followed by no more. But this family could talk. See each other.

If, in time, that mate and child wanted to… visit him in the mines, Hastur would allow it—but that was far, far in the future. For now, this gut-wrenching mercy would have to do.

He understood Bh’tnnkr’nuah’s decision, but he could never forgive it. And as for whoever had pretended to be Gokar’luh…

The death of his son was out now, no way around it. Time for that part of the plan to slot into place—the pretended dismissal, the frustration that his banished child should have been so stupid, the laughter that Gokar’luh could ever have thought he’d succeed.

Tomorrow. The lies and sharp-toothed deceit, the pretense at the asbsence of grief… tomorrow.

Tonight, he sat alone in his room, and held Gokar’luh’s crown, and wept, for he understood the assassin he could never, ever forgive.

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Notes:

(Note from Trin: it's my birthday, and I am a hobbit, so... here's 21,000 words for you!)

#malevolent #malevolent au #surrogate series #kayne malevolent #the keeper (surrogate)

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