#Groove Terminator

[funkypatoche]

(Groove Terminator)

[quantumofawesome]

1000 likes!

Not people liking me, me liking them. Huh!

"Set it free now: you are what you love, not what loves you."

[o-the-mts]

Song of the Week: "Good Life (Will Clarke x Latroit Extended Remix)" by Soweto Gospel Choir x Groove Terminator

Soweto Gospel Choir x Groove Terminator – Good Life (Will Clarke x Latroit Extended Remix) The Soweto Gospel Choir from South Africa team up with Australian DJ Groove Terminator on a project to celebrate the history of house music.  Performed in their native Zulu, “Good Life” is a joyous blend of gospel and electronic dance beats. Songs of the Week for 2024 January “Easy Fun” by gglum “Until…

[priokskfm]

#FREEDOWNLOADS #FREEPROMO #RADIOCHART Amerie WHY R U (GROOVE TERMINATOR EDIT) Dance More On The Dancefloor Volume 1 now available at https://ift.tt/R0iBpm4 Скачать: https://ift.tt/f3tihe8 https://ift.tt/nxSrokJ

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

𝔖𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶 - 𝔗𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔠𝔢

[decemberthe7th]

((((((((((((((((((((((:

[squiddy-god]

Captured

(King! Malleus x reader)

Re upload from terminated blog squid-god-supreme, so the way that this is written, kind of makes it confusing, but basically Malleus is king, reader is not yuu, I wrote this based on a piece of art that I saw that I doubt I will ever be able to find again, but I want to so bad, because it was so good

CW : a little bit of Yan! Malleus, implied kidnapping, short.

Maybe old legends have merit, to not cry wolf, to not throw stones in glass houses, and most of all not to trust cold hands that spin sweet tales, or the elegant faces of looming fairies. Yes most of all to not trust a gift to be given without a price to be paid.

To not drink wine brewed with magic and desire, and to not eat bread with hungring beasts. To not catch the eye of a king long broken by a lonely heart. Yes, that rule of old is most hallowed of all. 

Perhaps the head atop which sat a gilded crown thought of guilt. Thought to ask not your forgiveness with empty words but how to make it right. 

Atop that head and obsidian tresses cascading like rivers black however, was a pair of horns. That head thought not of guilt but of joy that the heart beating behind cageing ribs would now be devoid of loneliness.

Rivers of tar colored feathers gave way to a silhouette slender and looming. Like the moon he, the lonely king, loomed over the sleeping body of the one he fancied his lover. How so enchanting candle light sculpted your face, and how so haunting was the glass goblet reflecting that same light. 

How gentle the fabric lye on your body, so still but so warm. How harsh the red spill of that wine on the floor.   

he had you now, captured and tricked by the gift he gave. He, the lonely king of fairies and of thorns had you now his slumbering lover, his sleeping beauty from old tales of love. 

As the scene removed from glamor once again showed only your small cottage and the candles flickered out to wisps of smoke, the lonely king took up into his arms the dreaming form of his dream come true.

And when you awake you will truly be at the castle he spoke of, and the lovely illusion he showed you will be illusion no more.

Yes heed tales of caution, do not deal with fae folk. Do not dance in moonlight with that shadowed figure tall and slim, do not trace the curves of his grooved horns or sip the wine his cold hands offer. Do not hear the tales he tells as before your eyes your home becomes his. Do not seit his lonely heart no matter how it may ache for he may wish and dream to whisk you away. 

Heed these tales as the wine passes your lips and the glass falls to the floor alongside you. As the magic fades with your vision and your cottage returns from castle walls never truly having left. As that figure you've befriended, that lonely king you've loved, looms at the dream he's now captured.

[wanderingtycho]

For the longest time in Disco Elysium, I couldn’t figure out why Empathy was the stat chosen to represent Moralism, the other political stats made more sense to me.

Rhetoric is Communism, constantly arguing for you and dismantling the arguments of others, choosing to feel smart and miserable over acknowledging your hopelessness under capital.

Endurance is Fascism, purely physical, purely reactionary. No intellectual angle and not the emotions of your mind, but of your gut. The squirming, uncomfortable feeling of your insides telling you that everything sucks in your life because of *them*.

Libertarianism is Savoir Faire, the slimy show off stat, the ooze and groove and grinding of a real hustler. The kind of mentality that leads a terminally poor cop to walk around the most destitute ghetto in the city bragging about his net worth and his visionary money manifesting, to which normal people rightfully treat you as if you’re insane.

All well and good, all tracks, but then there’s Moralism, the political center, the Kingdom of Conscience. The stat for this would seem plainly obvious, Volition, right? The self control stat, the stat of temperance and rationality and measured action. The boring stat. Hell, Volition is the one who chimes in approvingly when you try on the Moralist pants. It seems like a perfect fit, but no, the stat for Moralism is Empathy.

Empathy, the stat that lets you, even forces you to feel for others. To reach them at their level, cut through to the source of all their feelings, the Superego. What does any of that have to do with Moralism? With slow, incremental progress and La Responsabilité?

At first, I thought it might have been an oversight, one Psyche skill swapped with another. Then I thought maybe it was meant as a subtly pro-moralist statement, that extreme political ideologies make it harder to connect with others, and being more “sensible” politically makes you more relatable. But that doesn’t really gel with the games stance on centrism, which is decidedly not positive, with the Moralist International depicted as a cold and dehumanizing force of oppression.

It didn’t make sense until I completed the Moralist political vision quest, which is by far my favorite out of all four. With Harry on top of the statue of Frissel III, begging and pleading with Coalition Warship Archer, it’s an Empathy check you have to pass to make the faceless drone on the other side of the radio see you. Hear you, acknowledge you as a person who is suffering, acknowledge the suffering of Martinase and Revachol under the unfeeling negligence of the Moralintern.

That’s when it hit me, Empathy is the Moralist stat because it taps into a universal human experience. Most people don’t have consistent political beliefs, even those ascribing themselves to more radical points on the spectrum. Most people have a complicated relationship with faith. But that moment of Harry on the statue, shouting desperately at a dreary sky for someone to please do something about this, that moment is empathetic to us all.

Regardless of political leanings, whether secular or spiritual, that gnawing existential dread is consistent. The world keeps getting worse and worse, and nobody with any power seems to care, every day we’re met with the silence of God and the silence of Capital. That’s why Empathy was chosen to embody Moralism, to recognize that deep down we’ve all felt that anxious longing. To look up at the sky and hope that something, someone. Anything, anyone, would please just listen and hear. Please just do something about this.

[buzzkillers]

Fables and Parables 1|?

Pairing: Namor x Black!Reader

Summary: During a study abroad trip, you accidentally trigger a long-time tradition through a simple word: amen.

Warning: NON-CON, religious themes, non-consensual voyeurism, magical sex pollen, dream-walking, mentions of abortion, attempted forced pregnancy.

PART TWO

There's only so many words in the English language to describe heat, so you'll keep it simple: Oraxco, Mexico was hell on Earth, survival unlikely.

It was a sun-drenched mugginess.

Something heavy and thick that melted the sunscreen right off your skin and had your phone turning off in self preservation. And the worst part? This was before you left the airport; before you even left the damn terminal.

You didn't know what you expected. Oraxco wasn't particularly known for having Iceland type temperatures but no one said it was like this. Like you were kissing the sun. Like the heat had a mind of it's own.

And by the time you found your classmates, your clothes were drenched in sweat and your bags had gone slick in your palms. Thankfully, you weren't the only one.

Underneath what could only be a sunflare, there were only a handful of you, but your tongue went dry as you tried to greet them all. And you know, maybe you weren't in a city.

Maybe the airplane accidentally dropped you off in a Giants oven. Maybe you were being grilled alive. It was the only explanation really. For Christ sake, you've never felt your skin cook before.

And when your professor finally arrived, with suspiciously dry skin and an easy smile the conversations died easily. You couldn't pretend to be upset. You just let her talk and talk and talk.

Her tone, peppier and upbeat as she postponed going straight to the hotel.

Instead, she wanted to risk heat stroke to visit a nearby holy site. A hidden attraction that not many tourists visit. "It's only a few miles east, you'll thank me later," she insisted, the moment she saw the deadly looks etched onto all our faces. "It'll be fun, I promise"

A bold faced lie you thought as by the time you got there, you couldn't help but think it looked less holy and more—abandoned.

Through the heat exhaustion you took in what could only be described as a tall engraved pillar in a sea of dead grass.

It was made of smooth stone and touched by age and thick green vines that wrapped snugly up the pillars pits and grooves. The arms of the vines climbing up and up until it disappeared atop the statue's crest. Shit, it was so far up, you had to crank your head up to see it.

It was beautiful, daunting and as your professor promised: hidden well. The pillar far enough away from the main road that if you weren't looking for it, it would be easily missed.

Clearly, the stone was old. It had to be the fifteenth century, pre-colonialism maybe? The craftsman ship was intricate as well. Each mark and dig woven into rocks that made a story. No, that wasn’t it. Not a story but instead the never ending tail of a serpent that slithered its way to the top of the pillar.

With artful expertise, the tail formed into a man with a heart in one hand and what could only be an infant in the other. Smaller figures surrounded the serpent, their role vague until your professor spoke.

"—a popular myth dating back to the Mayan period. It's said that if you pray at the feet of his statue, the sea serpent will rise from his throne to come up to pick a concubine,"

"The concubine would go through a heat of sort that would urge her to stay in the land of the serpent god till next full moon, where she'll come back to her homeland gifted with pregnancy and rewards for the town,"

Around you everyone nodded in thinly veiled disinterest.

“You only have to pray, give him a request and the fullment will be your exchange for the child.”

You grimaced, “I pray that this sun would disappear, amen”

You’re met with grunts of agreement. The professor dutifully chose to ignore you; instead her mouth just continued to go on and on and on. By the time it was over, you no longer heard the sounds of cars racing by, the trees had become unnaturally still and you were pretty sure that half of your class was sprawled dead on the grass floor.

She did not have to convince anyone to get back onto the bus. You’re in fact the first in your seat, legs splayed out and your head leaning against the heated window. There was an unnatural silence settled onto the bus. No one wanted to speak and you couldn’t blame them.

Your eyes instead stayed stuck on the trees; on the grass that danced beneath the soft wind. The moon had begun to hang high. Its light washed across the city and leaked through the leaves.

Your thighs shifted in your seat, your hand pressed into your cheek. And then you felt it, something hot and sharp like honey that spiked in your belly. A warm sensation that made you droop in your seat before you blinked and looked at the tree line as the engine roared.

The statue peeked back at you in glances and ripples of the leaves that withered over it. You blinked and for a moment, the leaves flicked away completely; your professor said something, the bus began to move at a snail's pace, but you couldn’t listen, you were transfixed.

Utterly hypnotized at the sight of the serpent tail, concrete and covered in rock as it tightened around the pillar. Before the leaves bristled back into place and the bus left the place behind.

You blinked. The warmth in your belly bloomed. Then with a roll of your shoulders, you pretend you saw nothing at all.

__

A few hours later, or maybe a few minutes, a few days? It didn't matter. But it was at that moment, deep down below, beneath sea currents and molten rock; on a throne covered in bones and melted gold, that a God pricked his ears towards the surface and sighed.

[funkypatoche]

(GROOVE TERMINATOR)

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Stereolab - "The Light That Will Cease To Fail / Soop Groove #1," Trees, Dallas, Texas, November 1, 1996

Stereolab weren't afraid to stretch things out onstage from time to time. But this medley might be as stretchy as the Groop ever got, as they build "The Light That Will Cease To Fail" and "Soop Groove #1" into a massive 25+-minute jam. It was their epic parting shot during a Dallas gig on the Emperor Tomato Ketchup tour and it is a thing of beauty. It's also a good summing up of where the 'Lab was headed at this point in their career — leaving behind those pure motorik moves and heading into funkier territory. So terminal, unreachable ...

Laetitia Says: The purer the connection you have to the universe, the more things are going to flow in your life. And of course, the struggle is that there’s a system out there that doesn’t want you to connect to the universe or the forces of nature, because if you do so you’re empowered and you’re going to buy less shit.

[priokskfm]

#FREEDOWNLOADS #FREEPROMO #RADIOCHART I Heard It Through The Grapevine (GROOVE TERMINATOR EDIT) Dance More On The Dancefloor Volume 1 now available at https://ift.tt/R0iBpm4 Скачать: https://ift.tt/Aat1oQ3 https://ift.tt/V1cFAhT

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

𝔖𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶 - 𝔗𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔠𝔢

[somestorythoughts]

Eldritch Echo Pt 8:

I'm pretty sure this is the longest section I've done for this fic. I'm not sure how that happened, one minute I was like "I'm kinda tried but I'll try to write a bit of this so I can say I wrote something today" and then next thing I know I'm in a writing groove. Not what I was thinking when I thought of Echo going feral earlier but I think it works.

Also, can someone who's seen more than a tiny bit of the Bad Batch confirm for me whether Crosshair sounds like Cad Bane? Cause I think he sounds like Bane.

@mezmatch , new part!

The Bad Batch’s mission doesn’t go well.

Hunter jerks awake in a cell to the sound of distant screams.

It’s not his brothers, he realizes. He can hear their heartbeats and see Tech in the opposite cell. Tech appears to still be unconscious and he can hear Wrecker grumbling to himself.

The screams stop.

“Wrecker?”

“Hunter! You alright?”

His head hurts and his ankle feels sprained, but that’s manageable. “Nothing too bad. You?”

“Bruises. Crosshair doesn’t look good, and I can’t see Tech or Echo.”

Echo Hunter realizes suddenly. Checking for the other three is habit, he’s still getting used to checking for four. “Tech’s unconscious. I can’t hear or see Echo, but someone was screaming earlier.”

“Do you think it was him?”

“No but they’re too far away to be sure. What the hell did they hit us with?”

“Nothing that would keep me down.” Is Wrecker’s grim response, meaning that whatever had been in that gas it wasn’t exceptionally strong. They called Tech and Crosshair’s names, trying to wake them up.

Four floors up, Echo is angry and working his way towards fully pissed off.

The Separatists who had caught them had brought him here to confirm that he was the trooper the Techno Union was hunting for and to get some information out of him. They had been straightforward about their plans to torture the rest of the squad for any useful information before killing or selling them, that detail was still being decided.

They had made two crucial mistakes. One of them was deciding this was a good idea in the first place.

The second was not asking the Techno Union exactly how they had managed to keep Echo down for so long.

The Techno Union got very, very lucky with Echo. He’d been in a state not too far from hibernation while his body recovered from the explosion, and then there were prosthetics and stasis chambers and things digging into his mind and one of the scientists had realized that they needed a very strong cocktail of drugs to keep him sedated. It had taken all of that to keep him under control, and even then he’d managed to cause trouble a couple times.

Your average sedative and some reinforced binders? Yeah, good luck with that.

Echo stands in a room with the remnants of five droids and three people. He walks to the terminal and turns on the security cameras with sticky red fingers. Blood drips from the knife at the end of his right arm and he narrows his eyes as the other Separatists hurry towards the cells where his squad is imprisoned, several droids with him. He taps another button.

“I would strongly suggest leaving my squad alone.”

He knows the way his voice sounds as it echoes, ha, through the intercom. Echo’s never called himself a sadist, but he won’t deny he relishes the way the Separatists jump out of their skin. He continues. “I’m coming for my squad. If you want to live, I suggest leaving now.”

He watches the screens just long enough to confirm his next actions, then turns and walks out the door.

He doesn’t have his armor or his blaster, but that’s alright. He’ll check for their location once he gets the others out, then he won’t have to try and carry everything. This trick Elevenses and Chomper had taught him and Fives during ARC training didn’t work with armor anyway.

In the cells, Hunter and Wrecker have managed to wake the other two up. Tech’s alright, but Crosshair has a concussion and a broken leg due to the sedative disorienting him as he was fleeing his compromised perch. They’d all been awake enough to hear Echo’s announcement and had almost immediately taken bets on whether the Seps would leave or not because some troopers would bet on anything, if only for the hell of it.

When the Seps arrive, they’re rushed. A minute later, the droids in the hall start blasting. There’s a sound like Wrecker ripping the hull off of a ship and the droids start yelling.

“Take him he’s the most injured.” The woman orders her companion, pointing at Crosshair. “I refuse to lose to a clone.”

“You certainly ran from him quickly.” Crosshair spat. He’s unsteady, but if he can get to the control panel for Wrecker’s cell…

He punches the man in front of him. There’s a shout, but Crosshair can only move so fast on a broken leg and finds a blaster leveled at his face, out of range. He puts his hands up and a stun baton hits his back.

He hears the others shouting as he goes down, tasting blood. They cuff him and drag him out of the cell and something on the ground catches his eyes. There’s too much light in the hallway between the cells for his shadow to be that dark, and he knows his shadow can’t grin.

“I told you to leave them alone.”

That’s Echo’s voice, if Echo was something massive and predatory speaking from the depths of a cavern too dark to see into. And those are Echo’s eyes, the violet golden color he’s grown familiar with. The handprint on his chest is Torrent blue, the 99 to the left of it in the same red the Batch uses. But the rest of him is black and white and something like armor. There’s a knife where his scomp should be, something shining on the ends of his fingers that could be claws and could be something else entirely. There’s too many teeth. Crosshair doesn’t have the words and doesn’t know how much of that is because of the concussion.

The woman keeps her blaster pointed at Crosshair’s head. The man points his at Echo, who sighs and raises his arms.

Something flashes. Someone yells. Something yanks Crosshair out of the way and he screams. When he stops, Echo has his teeth in the woman’s throat.

“Bleh. Never liked doing that.” Echo grumbles. He hurries to Crosshair, crouching down just out of arm’s reach with a face closer to what they’re used to. There are red lines over one eye much like Crosshair’s tattoo. “Are you alright?”

“When the fuck did you get a tail vod?” He croaks. Echo smiles, worry and relief plain as day even with the damn concussion. “Can we leave now?”

It doesn’t take too long to find their armor and weapons, even with Wrecker carrying Crosshair. Most of the droids had been in the hallway, and they clear out the remainder with ease as they get their stuff and swipe a speeder to get to the Marauder. Echo scomps into a terminal, he can practically hear Tech holding back questions when the blade changes smoothly back to a scomp, and retrieves the data they came for before they leave.

Crosshair’s gritting his teeth in pain by the time they get to the ship. While Tech and Wrecker are taking care of him, Hunter and Echo head straight for the controls. They don’t fully relax until they’re off the planet. Echo leans forward with a sigh, skin warping back into his usual shape.

“That could have gone worse.” Hunter groaned. Echo snorted. Something beeped.

“If that’s another mission we’re not here.” Echo grumbled. Hunter would have laughed if he hadn’t been so surprised. When his face is back under control, he answers the comm.

“Sir.”

“Hunter I’m glad I caught you.” The small blue form of Commander Cody says. “You boys alright? Is Echo there?”

He sounded stressed. “We just wrapped up the mission, only need to send in the data. Crosshair’s injured, he might be out of commission for a few days. Echo’s right here.” The ARC trooper waved one hand in range of the comm. “What’s wrong?”

Cody sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “The Chancellor was a Sith, he’s now dead, and Fives was involved.”

Echo’s in front of the comm in a heartbeat. “Fives is on Coruscant?”

“The Chancellor’s a Sith?” Hunter asks because that also sounds important.

“It’s been a long day.” Cody replies. “I’ll give you the rundown but first, how soon can you get to Coruscant?”

“About two days if nothing goes wrong.” Echo replied. Hunter steps in.

“Would it be easier to send us a report? I assume you need to send one out anyway, and we can get the full details when we arrive.” Echo opens his mouth. “I’m not going to stop you getting details about your twin, but Cody looks exhausted and I know the others will have questions.”

“Fine.” Echo grumbles as Cody agrees. “You tell that idiot I’m going to wring his neck when I see him okay?”

Far away, an ARC trooper blinked and looked up. Something had pinged across his mind, resonating in his veins and resting on his back like a weight.

“Something wrong?” One of the Corries asked. Fives grinned, tired and relieved.

“Somewhere my twin is pissed at me.”

[squiddy-god]

A Lonely Night

(osial x reader pt1)

Re-upload from terminated account squid-god-supreme, this is another older one that I wrote when I first started playing engine, which was shortly after the game's release so here is an osial x reader

CW : osial, almost drowning, he's written more in a yandere-ish way, gn! Reader (I think it's been awhile) not proofread we die like men.

You often gazed at the sea, looking out at the crashing waves against liyue rocks, years of water making grooves in the stone. Even on days where no sailor set out from the harbor and the winds whipped with raging waters, when the sea's deep waters swirled and cried out in rage, you could be found on the sandy shores soaked in rain. 

Foolish and crazy they called you; You who sought peace in the abode of fallen gods, who traveled to the silence of Guyun stone forest, the slanted mountains not imposing and ominous as they should have been, but rather welcoming as your boat sailed between them. It was often that you spent time in the stone forest, the sounds of gentle waves the only company you needed while you scaled mountains and explored the shells of adepti long fallen. You only chuckled as you packed your bags once again, wicker basket empty and satchel packed with what you’d need for the day, your mothers face held worry as she once again watched you pack. One would think she wouldn't worry with how many trips you'd made to the mountains of the stone forest but still she worried every time. 

“Don't worry, i'll be back soon! The skies are clear and ill be careful mother” she shook her head, there was really no stopping you, already in the boat and setting out. “Alright dear, but please hurry home!” she called as you rowed away.

The towering mountains blocked the beating sun as you whent to your usual fishing spot. Around bends and under the stone arches. You always found it odd how birds don't nest in the crevices of warm stone, avoiding this place like the plague.but it was peaceful when eagles didn't caw and squawk at fish, scaring them away from your hook and real. You cast your line, the breeze rustling your clothes and carrying the smell of salt along the air. Once you felt a tug on your line you pulled back, silver scaled fish jumping from the watter and into your small boat.

This went on for some time, casting and pulling your line till your once empty basket was full of fish. The sun has risen to noon as it casts daunting shadows over the shifting sea. “Guess it's time to head back to shore for a bit” you mutter to yourself, deciding to spend a while longer at Guyun’s shores. Rowing back didn't take long, tugging your boat just far enough ontoshore to stay put while you rested. You hoped out of the boat and winced as your bare feet touched the hot sand, but none the less you made your way over to a small tree that grew from a crack in the mountain. You let out a small sigh as you leaned back in the shade, eyes darting across the sand as crabs scurried across it. 

The sound of waves lulled you to sleep, eyes sliping shut for a quick nap. That was a mistake, by the time you had awoken the sun had long set, night to pitch black and inky to safely return home. “I hope she doesn't worry too much,” you said, quickly running under the large stone overpass to stay the night. Despite your many trips this was the first time you had spent the night here, your mother always worried about you to let you stay. Lighting a match you kindled a small fire to keep warm and then once again drifted off to sleep. 

Your eyes closed and your mind drifted off, time passing you by before you felt a sharp pain. Your lungs burned with every breath and you felt the air change. The tensen thick as malice filled your being. Roars and screeches sounded in the air as you realized they were your own, you felt another sharp pain as your body lurched into the ocean, dragged down and pinned to the bottom by a heavy stone spear.  When you writhed and fought you felt another and another- 

You woke up coughing, your lungs on fire and you looked around with frantic eyes. They were blown wide as you tried to calm down, body sore from seemingly nothing. A strange noise grasped your attention, like a muffled voice with angered words drowned out by the sea. You stood up and trudge forward, following the sound of the noise out to the shore. A strange man sat in the sand, long hair sprawled against the sand. In the tired state you were in you didn't notice how moonlike seemed to filter threw his hair as if it were water. 

“Are you...alright?” you asked, a safe distance away when you saw him turn around; maybe it was a trick of the moon but you swore his eyes were glowing blue. He didn't say a word, and you walked closer, air changing as if storms were on their way. 

He was puzzled, too puzzled to speak. Such a foolish mortal to approach a god- but did you even know?  Had it really been so long that liuye has forgotten the raging tides and rapids that once plagued them? Ridiculous was the notion yet here you sat besides him, your unspoken presence not unwelcome after years of solitude. 

“It's nice out here, you can even see the stars in the water” he couldn't help but chuckle at your attempt at small talk, for a second almost forgetting his ancient grudge. “Yes, the ocean holds many wonders, the stars are no different” his voice was slightly coarse as he spoke. “Haha that reminds me of old legends,” you sigh “they say that deep beneath the rapid water, where no light shines, a glowing castle lays full of shells and pearls, but that's become no more than a legend” laughing you scratched your neck as if embarrassed by the childish tales. Of course he has heard of this before, how could he not when it was his legend? Yet something compelled him, “what else do they say of it?” he inquired. “Well- they say it's guarded by a monster!” you said raising your hands to look more threatening “a huge sea monster as old as rex lapis who makes the watters rage! The abode of osial” you laugh as you finish your dramatic tale. 

“And what if it's real?” you looked at him with wide eyes and looked back to the ocean. “I'd go there of course! Bygone gods slumber, the oceans no longer rage with the force of gods, if that was a real place then i'd find it one day” you said, a wistful look in your (e/c) eyes. 

As time passed and you talked with the odd man your eyes slipped shut, head lightly hitting the sand as you once again drifted off to sleep. Missing the sound of your voice he looked over and chuckled at your sleeping form, hooking an arm under your legs and back before standing. He laid you down in your boat before pushing it and letting the tide take it into the water. He walked besides your boat, guiding it along as you slept soundly to the rhythm of the waves. Pulling the boat onto the shore of liyue he grimaced. He'd long forgotten this place and the blood that was shed here.

The first being to keep him company in well over two thousand years, a shame he had to let you go so easily. “Although” he thought, looking over to you. “Perhaps I don't”