#aether is his reason for existing (REAL)

[milkchocimono]

scara canonically calling aether “sunshine” is PEAK. WHAT do you MEAN (boy who represents the sun) and (boy who needs a little extra sun) is their real dynamic?!? CLAWING THE WALLS OF MY ENCLOSURE.

[nariism]

your boyfriend can't sleep without you anymore.

he used to be tormented by thoughts that kept him awake at night, leaving him tossing and turning until he could hear birds chirping. he was always sort of an insomniac. and it showed, too, when people would point out how irritated he looked every morning.

he's slotted between your legs with his arms around your torso. you're balancing a book on his head: elemental slimes and their applications. it's hefty but the weight reassures him for some reason, proves to him that your existence isn't some figment of his imagination— you're real and holding him like he's some kind of sacred treasure.

one of your hands is in his hair, mindlessly twirling and combing through it. the other is pulling him closer to your body by the back of the neck, effectively squishing him against you.

"did you know that dendro slime flowers taste bitter?" he only hums in response, eyes growing heavy with sleep. his lack of a proper answer tells you all you need to know. the book atop his head closes and is exchanged with your lips, pressing gentle kisses down to his forehead as you peel him away from you to settle into bed.

all the thoughts that would usually keep him up are replaced only by you. you and your warm hands, soft kisses and excerpts from the book you're reading.

he falls asleep before you can even turn the lamp off.

ALHAITHAM, diluc, AETHER, kaeya, dainsleif + your favs <3

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

meri u are SELLING me on craftmine

not really decided on what i want to do with minecraft-the-game's existence a la luke's world but by far the Funniest option (to me) would be if it existed but in like. a knockoff format. like as craftmine yknow. extremely similar to minecraft but different Enough that luke never draws the connection. like yeah sure this seems familiar but craftmine was known for everything being a rectangular prism not a cube . it didntve 'servers' it had 'spaces' . etc etc

[zara-renata]

Alike and Cornered Beast: Sylus's POV

Summary:

I was desperate for Sylus's point of view during the first time that MC meets him in the Alike and Cornered Beast chapters of Long-Awaited Revelry. So I uh wrote it myself. I wanted to know why he touches MC so reverently but also quite brutally, so I spent a lot of time thinking about possibilities.

A/N:

Sylus x gender neutral reader/MC, second person POV (but we don't use Y/N in this house). Brief, derisive mentions of Xavier and Zayne (this is Sylus's POV after all, don't come for me). I love all the LIs, but Sylus has his hand wrapped around my throat and I see him as arrogantly having something to say about the other people who are also interested in his shiny treasure. He has mean thoughts about the other LIs, but he can be mean and we love that for him. Slightly canon divergent if you believe Sylus can't tell that MC is scared and repulsed by him until the shopkeeper informs him. I however believe this man is a little more perceptive than that. CW: violence, cursing, rude language, death, grief, murder, ok this is Sylus hello, non-consensual (non-sexual) touching of MC, metaphors involving hunger and blood, overuse of the word "lovely," but Sylus is a simp and it's mostly his POV so we must endure it. SFW, although clearly there is a thread of desire running beneath the interactions depicted ao3 link here

He doesn’t need the aether core in his eye to know how you're feeling. He can see it in the way your lovely jaw is locked tight, teeth clenched behind soft lips twisted into a tight line. The shudder you’re trying and failing spectacularly to repress, desperate to conceal your weakness: the fact that almost as much as you fear him, you hate him.

Almost from the very beginning, things have been going sideways for Sylus. First, that imbecile having the hubris to believe he could just pilfer what had clearly been claimed as belonging to Onychinus.

Second, the palpable fear that had juddered through you as he had graciously relieved the larcenist of the burden of his pathetic life, only for that fear to flare into bright, barely controlled hate once you figured out that using yourself as bait had succeeded in reeling in the largest predator in the N109 zone.

Third, even when he sauntered close to you, allowing you to drink your fill of his face, no other spark of recognition fired besides that of the leader of the most powerful criminal organization in the region. You didn’t recognize him personally at all, even as he hungrily mapped your face with his eyes and felt the bottomless well of want deepen even further in his heartless chest.

You didn’t remember a fucking thing. And for some reason, you hated him more than his worst enemies. And he had quite a large body count in the worst enemy column of the ledger of his existence.

The fear, he can understand. Onychinus is on the Hunter Association’s Naughty List, and you’re one of the Association’s true believers, a jewel in the hilt of their blade composed of naïve warriors. And like the noble, naïve creature he knows you to be, you firmly believe that any intel they fed you about him and his organization was the pure, unfiltered truth.

But the hate? He muses as he looks down into your upturned face, a face that has been carved into his dreams for weeks now, ever since Mephisto had reported back after scouting the Flux Nexus in the no-hunt zone. Ever since the night he finally found you, stumbling around and battling at the side of your sleepy, cunning rabbit of a partner in the dark wood, oblivious to the real danger perched amongst the leaves, watching through mechanical eyes. His lips twitch in an ironic smile, as he knows he should be grateful to the rabbit for the fact that you’re in front of him now, so agonizingly close. He can see the rise and fall of your chest. The breath you exhale, for him to inhale. All he has to do is let his hand do what it wants—reach out, fingertips drifting softly along the curve of your cheek, your throat, the pulse point that betrays your racing heart. You’re close enough that he could swallow you whole. A good man might be grateful, but he isn’t a good man, and he doesn’t have it in him to be grateful; he only catalogues the threat, and tucks away the thought of the light evolver to be a problem to contemplate, and solve, another day. Right now, he needs to solve the problem of why you hate him on a level that professional distaste can’t explain. The hate he sees in your bright, sharp eyes is personal.

Consequently, he might not need the aether core in his eye to know that you hate him, but he sure as hell needs it to figure out why.

He knows he should wait to use his power on you. He knows that strategically, the best play here is to move slowly, to rebuild your trust, to tease out what he wants from you, to prove to you that despite every instinct that the Association has indoctrinated in you, he is not a threat to you and never will be. He knows all too well that one can’t force trust and forge an equal relationship from coercion, but he doesn’t have the time. Not with the entire Nest on the hunt for his Prey tonight, not with his own house in chaos with Sherman running amok and running up the bill on collateral damage. He needs to know why you hate him so that he can deal with it now, all of it. To borrow the vocabulary of another one of your hapless suitors: now is the time for triage, and after he has assessed the carnage, then he will begin suturing the aftermath. Sylus may be a businessman, but he can appreciate a surgeon’s precision in approaching a crisis. Even if Sylus can’t appreciate the iceman himself, if only for the lingering looks the doctor indulges in when his patient is looking the other way. Sylus files this problem away, like the other, to be solved in quiet solitude another day.

So he indulges in a lingering look of his own, fingers twitching with the need to touch where they’re deceptively, casually resting on his hips. And then: Sylus lets himself look. He can feel the familiar warmth increase within his eye socket, the ember beginning to glow hotter and hotter, until it’s almost unbearable, and then truly unbearable, as it is every time, the price he must pay so that he may see.

A little silver apple on a chain.

A pair of smiling eyes.

An old woman’s hand placing a dumpling on a plate.

The relief of realizing that the danger has dissipated, and dinner is still waiting.

A strong, broad back, shoulders shaking with laughter as a door swings shut.

Almost from the very beginning, things have gone sideways for Sylus. He shuts his eyes, feels the heat and the pressure fade like grief with time, as the power in his aether core goes dormant once again. But you haven’t had time, have you? It’s still fresh, the wound still hemorrhaging. You think that he caused this. You’ve been bleeding for months, thinking it was his hand that wielded the knife lodged in your heart. Or rather, detonated the bomb that incinerated the only family you’ve ever known, leaving a smoking crater where your heart used to be.

Sylus’s mind races, compiling this new information, archiving the whys and hows, constructing and reconstructing his carefully assembled plans and all of the contingencies in between, laughing derisively at himself for not seeing this possibility coming. Sideways is an understatement. Things are well and truly fucked, Sylus thinks, looking into your lovely, livid face.

For a moment, an unfamiliar sensation drifts through his chest. He tests it gingerly, letting it cascade through him before he can identify it: despair. After all this time. Every year, month, week, day, second, breath, he has been carving a path towards you, littered with the broken dreams and broken bodies of others, and now he has finally found you, and what should have been his greatest victory (the spoils? His fingertips drifting up your silken skin, his fingers entwined with yours, home), may have been his greatest loss—a loss that is for once, despite all of his crimes and all of the corpses at his feet, every terrible thing he has ever done, not his fault at all.

He savors this strange feeling for a few heartbeats, indulging in it, pressing into it like a bruise, if bruises would actually remain under his skin. And then he discards it: the unexpected rarely obstructs his carefully laid plans, but nothing about you has ever been expected, has it? If he were the kind of man to resign himself to unexpected loss, like the other men clumsily flitting around you, he’d have been a dead trophy tossed at the feet of an enemy long ago. So the rules of the game have changed. So what? Sylus will adapt, because no matter his fucking luck, he is playing to win.

Because while gazing into the depths of your beloved eyes, Sylus not only saw the why of your hate, but the only thing that could soothe it. Something that you refuse to admit, even to your fundamentally honest self. Something you can’t admit, as you spend insomniac nights training until collapse, as you slice, maim, and end wanderer after wanderer, as you bare your teeth a little too savagely as blood spills beneath your fist and blade. You need vengeance. You need someone to hurt as much as you’re hurting. And not just anyone—the wanderers and criminals that you’ve trained your fists and pistols and blade on do not satisfy the blood-thirst burning through your veins. You need to punish the person responsible for the inferno in your chest. Maybe then you’ll be able to sleep again. Maybe then you’ll be able to not smile again, but at least retract the fangs that have been frightening the people around you for months now. The fangs you feared were always there, underneath the careful façade of the well-adjusted, law-abiding, healthy paragon of a hunter you’ve built to keep the nightmares at bay for years, to show your colleagues, your partner, your doctor and your superiors: Look, I’m harmless and righteous, the perfect tool, love me, love me, love me, please do not leave like everyone else I've ever loved.

And Sylus? Sylus has always, and will always, endeavor to give you everything your damaged heart could possibly desire. He knows that you will not believe that he was not the one who ripped your ‘family’ apart. And he knows that it will take time, time that he does not currently have, to rebuild what has been lost between the two of you. He recalibrates, sweeps aside the despair, and reinforces his resolve. If you want to exact vengeance on the person you think is responsible for all of your indescribable pain, Sylus will give his heart to you on a bloody platter, regardless of the pain it will cost him.

You need someone to hate right now to stay strong? So be it. He will be that for you, until he can locate the actual culprit. As he reaches out, ever so gently trailing the backs of his fingers along your hauntingly lovely face, he tells himself for a moment that he can't bring himself to use something so impersonal as the energy of his evol on you. But who is he kidding--Sylus is many things, but a liar is not one of them. He admits to himself that this is just him finally giving into his deepest desire, as he lets his hand drift from your face to the side of your neck, closing around your throat and lifting. He does not want to handle your precious form with such brute, concise strength, but he needs to hurry, he needs answers and he needs to fix this, now now now and you need him to be the enemy. This is what is best for you at this moment, in this place, and he only ever wants what is best for you, so he plays the part you need him to play:

"From your past to your future...to even all the crimes you'll inevitably commit. After all, you and I...we're the same. True kindred spirits."

As your body goes limp from his chokehold on you, he catches you, cradling your head in his hand, grateful for the strength of his body, the shelter he can provide you as he lifts you in his arms, holds you tightly, your chests finally close again, yours too full of a maimed heart and his missing one entirely, complementing each other, completing each other, even though you’re out cold and it will take so much—too much, too much, it’s already been too much time, you’re finally here, you’re finally in his arms, where you should have been all along—time to be able to have you in his arms like this but with your eyes wide open and fixed on his.

Later, when you wake up, in a dark room with this familiar stranger disdainfully staring you down through crimson eyes, as his evol winds itself around you, as it jerks you onto his big lap, you clench your teeth, you fight the tears of frustration and fury—why do you always cry when you’re angry? Is it not humiliating enough to lose control of the leash on your emotions, without tears spilling down your face to betray you to the object of your rage?­—and you fight desperately against the immovable force pinning you in place.

"I want to kill you myself," you grit out, through the tears and the snot running down your face.

And then this man places your gun in your hand, eyes bright as blood never leaving yours, in answer to the quietest, deepest buried desire of your limping heart that he has driven you to saying out loud. Your hate flares, because how dare he expose you to yourself in this manner? Who does this motherfucker think he is, casually extracting from your own mouth and offering you that which you couldn’t before name in hushed whispers, as if it means nothing to him, as if it costs him nothing, his sharp jaw relaxed, a ghost of a smirk curling the edges of his wide mouth? You fight it, the surge of hunger that chokes your panting breath—you fight it so hard, you’ve been fighting it for so long, ever since the piercing ringing in your ears began to sound that replaced your grandmother’s and Caleb’s laughter, the ringing silence that followed as debris rained down on your useless, injured body. You are not a mindless animal. You will not give in to this voracious want. You and this man holding your gun to his own heart are not the same, and never will be.

“Do you need some help? Yes? No? Maybe so?” His voice is the purr of a jungle cat, his hand, large and just as calloused as yours, envelops your own, with that same bizarre gentleness that you can’t even begin to interpret the why of, his finger drifting along your own, until it slowly tightens over yours. Your mouth says “No,” and you see how his eyes dart from yours to your lips and back again, but the hunger inside you howls as this man presses your finger against the trigger and the sound of the bullet leaving your gun drowns out all of the other noise in the cacophony of your thundering heart.

His big body jerks back, head hitting with a painful sounding thump against his melodramatic throne (ok, so it's just an antique chair, but honestly, where do villains buy ridiculous props like this?), and for an endless moment in time, the hunger is satiated, and a sense of triumphant relief courses through you instead. And then your vision sharpens, as blood the color of this man’s eyes begins to pour through the hole he—and you, we, together—just shot into his fucking heart.

He jerks the gun from your grasp and tosses it with a loud clatter to the concrete floor.

“You—Are you fucking crazy?” You’re moving before you realize it, palms pressed over his heart (a spiteful part of you hopes that it hurts him, even as you are suddenly overwhelmed with the terror that he is actually going to die, before you get any answers, before you get any help, before you’ve accomplished anything at all).

“You wanted to take my life,” he pants. It never hurts any less, no matter how many times it happens. He can feel his flesh knitting back together already, each stitch as painful as the one before. “And so you’ve taken it.”

Despite the pain, Sylus watches you leisurely, drinking in the blood splatters across your lovely neck and chin. My blood, he thinks with satisfaction. He wants to soak you in it. He wants to watch you bathe in it. He shakes his head, tucking that urge away for later contemplation. He is finally in the position to do what he has been craving for so, so long. He has given you what you want. Of course he will always give you what you want. However, that doesn’t mean that he can’t simultaneously get what he wants—Sylus strongly prefers deals when they’re win-win. He has given you what you wanted, and the slate is now clean. Now, it is time to begin negotiation of the highest stakes deal of his life: the acquisition of your body, heart and soul. Back at his side, where you belong.

“Now what? Have you already figured out how you’ll pay me back?”

[shubox]

Tapu Mew-Mew Ref Sheet!

Another thing for the 'Try-Two' Mewtwo AU I'm slowly chipping away at! One (of four) offshoot clones of the original Mewtwo, with lore and concept/research under the cut! --------

So long ago my bestie and I decided that there were going to be a few clones past the original one that we started with that was made in the same lab as Mewtwo. Depending on where they were made, they'd adopt some regional traits. One of which was Alola - where this bean comes in! One of the offshoot Mewtwo project labs was secreted away in Alola, and since the progenitor was a lost cause (what with wrecking shop on the HQ and all), what resources they could divert went into these far-flung facilities. Not that it lasted long - the Island Deities of Alola were not appreciative of such things in their region, and both leveled the facility in entirety, but also kidnapped its focused Mewtwo clone. After years of being raised alongside them, and having not quite fully 'grown' at the time of his rescue, he began to take on weird traits - aided by his Tapu caretakers. This would result in plates similar to theirs, a Water Typing (complete with biologically-created water veil at will!), and pigmentation changes that'd eventually mimic the very beings raising him. As such, they eventually inducted their weird little pseudo-progeny into their roles, playing a bit of an odd 'fifth' role. He doesn't preside over Alola like they do, but he both tends to - and observes - the balance between their natural origins and cultures, while also ensuring the merciless march of technology and contact with outside regions does not cause a discarding of the olden ways. He is the youngest of the clones, but also because of how Alola has become a rich tourist destination, he's also the most well-informed - having known about his 'father's' rampage, the death of Giovanni, and some (not ALL) of his 'siblings'. His nature being what it is, he's also the closest to old-school Mew in demeanour. --RESEARCH TIME-- SO. I wanted to make sure what I was doing wasn't an absolute mess, especially given the Tapu reference a *very real* culture. So, I dug in a bit, looked up each of the four major Hawaiian gods that the Tapu refer to. (at least those that were most prominent, King Kamehameha's reign causing some muddiness in it)

Given that bit of research, plus the other thing Alola's rituals/trials reference (the balance between preserving Hawaii's traditions, while *also* adapting influences from outside regions since contact), I wanted this 'pseudo-Tapu' to be a sort-of 'avatar' for Alola's version of it. A few things: 1) The Tapu have animal themes, which are indicated by their shells and patterning. Tapu Mew-Mew's are less angular, and more loosely resemble manmade structures. 2) As he isn't a biological Tapu, despite his grown shells, he is unable to close them whatsoever. However, he did gain an odd quirk that they can generate a sort of water-shawl and skirt that he calls a 'water veil'. 3) Because he is, by creation, a literal clone (unlike his father, who was an unborn Mew mutated into a Mewtwo), he is slightly indicative of that balance - born by artificial means, raised in nature and adapting to it. The Tapu deemed him fit to both have his own personalized Trials, but also that his role was exactly what he symbolized - observing and maintaining the balance between the two sides of the post-contact cultural shift in Alola.

4) He is *absolutely* as capricious as his caretakers. The reason the Aether Foundation both remains in Alola, but does not stir up trouble is because he has made it all too clear that the reason it still exists was due to him being 'in a good mood' when he confronted Lusamine and her staff. He's also not one to make his retribution proportional. (Damn near considered capsizing it from the get-go because he 'didn't like how it looked'.) An absolute joy to make, and will be even more fun to write! Y'know. Once I get there. |D

[wrathofrats]

Angst promt 15 with Dew being mean to Phantom/Aeon in the beginning :)) either pure angst or hurt/comfort you choose -🌧️

Part 10293839 of dew doesn’t know how to cope with his trauma.

Warnings for: dew being overly cruel, like he’s really mean to phantom to justify his own trauma. Aether is said to be dead here, Detailed descriptions of dealing with grief, morally wrong thoughts, it’s angst.

No I don’t think dew is bad, this is all based in real grief. He’s not right but he’s not a bad ghoul. I want to make that clear. Dew tries to make it right in the end, this is a lot of him working through his own feelings. I didn’t leave it sad forever.

-

Sometimes dew feels like the perfect tragedy.

A fairy tale of love and loss that you tell your kids at night to not make them greedy. To teach them to enjoy what they have, to stop complaining.

A fucked up fable of a being forced into a shell that’s not his by a lover he no longer has and truly his own skin feels like his mates mausoleum.

His self hatred falls upon phantom most of the time. A better target than his own flesh and bones in his head. It’s a silent agreement between the ghouls to never mention it, to make sure phantom and dew don’t stay alone together too long but the only verbal concerns come from late night whispers in low lit rooms of the house.

Dew feels unjustified in his hatred, knows it in fact. Can’t rip away the feeling of phantoms existence being wrong. It punches him in the chest everytime he sees him, when he sees his guitar, when he sees him practice his magic. It’s wrong and gross and dew feels disgusted with him, like a cheap puppet of someone he loves.

He wonders if he could make phantom into a bad dog. If he will lash out when scared. Something tangible to justify his hatred. A bite wound to justify his fear. It’s part of the reason he’s so cold to him. His own civil war of wanting to leave the kid alone, knowing he’s done nothing wrong, and wanting to hurt him so phantom can hurt him back. He wants tangible evidence of phantom being cruel to him back so much he could almost taste it. He’s sick, he’s disgusted with himself but dews never been anything but stubborn. A malicious brain worm that will only feed on seeing his own manipulated proof that the kid can be fucking cruel too.

Dew gets worse with his gross brain parasite. Dropping his obsession with aether to instead obsess over being correct and justified in his feelings. Hes lost this much, he can’t stand being wrong on top of it. He has to bite his tongue every time he sees phantom to not immediately try and cause an issue. The common smiling face makes him want to smack it off of him, the sound of Swiss giggling at phantom antics makes him want to scream in rage that he’s not all that special, aether didn’t deserve what happened to get that thing to replace him

The ghouls notice a clear change in him that never leaves. Dew turning from an inconsolable grieving mess into a vengeful creature who they barely can even talk to anymore. All of his words ooze venom, the looks he gives anyone who even go near phantom have them cringing in their own discomfort.

Phantom gets the worst of strange feelings. Summoned into a pack of those receiving the news of the loss of their friend. He feels immediately outcast, though they’ve all worked to remedy the feelings, it still eats at him more than they’ve told him it should. It probably lingers from dews stares but he can’t help but feel as if he was born with the original sin he can scrub his skin of. Maybe if dew accepted him he wouldn’t feel sick everytime he was in a group setting, or maybe it’s truly always going to be like this, phantom doesn’t know.

It’s not his fault he’s curious, the hint of his name having him tune into different conversations using his quintessence to help. He should’ve known better than to use it on dew though.

Mountain approaches dew first about the problem. Phantom watches him finally chase after him to his room after dew came down to grab water, immediately retreating upon seeing phantom sitting on the couch.

Dew what on earth is your problem?

Mountain speaks quietly, barely enough to hear even with his magic

Are we really doing this? You know my fucking problem mountain!

Dew is a bit louder, doesn’t care if anyone hears, it’s a painful thought.

You’re acting like a child. I know what you’re going through but-

You have no idea what I’m going through

He sounds on the verge of tears

You have to learn to accept it. You can’t keep doing this, you’re tearing the pack apart with your shitty attitude

Fuck you, he’s the one tearing us apart, I didn’t do anything

It’s one thing to assume what’s wrong, but for phantom to hear it? The words hurt physically, but he’s unable to stop himself from ignoring the conversation.

Phantom didn’t do anything and you know that

He’s the reason aethers dead. Aethers gone and we got a shitty fucking child to replace him and you expect me to be ok with that?

I’m done. Fix your attitude. Get help. You know you’re wrong.

The tears flow down phantoms face. Bile burns at his throat and he can’t help but look around for someone, anything to comfort him. Maybe he is some shitty child.

Mountain rests his hands on phantoms shoulder to warn him of his presence before sliding next to him and pulling him into his arms.

“Did you hear any of that?” Mountain asks, worried but knowing the answer.

Phantom nods his head

“He’s wrong. Dew will get over himself, don’t listen to him. He’s going through a lot but you’ve done nothing wrong bug”

Phantom tries not to directly sob into mountains shirt, hiccuping and biting his cheek

“If he didn’t mean it, why would he say something like that?” His voice cracks through his tears

“Grief makes people do stupid things. He’s looking for someone to blame so he can take it off of himself. I promise it wasn’t your fault though”

They hold each other, mountain squeezing phantom tight enough to release some of his own feelings.

Dew is a direct contrast to the warm embrace happening downstairs. Sitting alone in his room, barely a thought besides his own internal rage and these days it’s all he really does. Sit and stew in his own self pity, praying that maybe if he hopes hard enough everything will go back to normal, though he knows it won’t. A vicious never ending cycle.

His bed is cold, has been for months. He yearns for someone to save him though is utterly convinced he must deserve this. It must be some kind of punishment for something he’s done. It’s fitting for a monster of his kind, to want something so much but to know you’ll never deserve it.

Phantom was gifted with a different kind of quintessence than aether and omega were, less medical and more thoughtful. He was naturally empathetic, to a fault at times. His magic made him feel things others felt deeply, able to control their emotions with just his finger tips.

He decides to confront dew, a peace offering, an apology, he doesn’t know but he can’t stand the situation. He can’t stand having someone he should care about be practically fading away because of his own hurt he’s never been shown how to deal with properly.

“Can we talk?” Phantom knocks on the cracked door, opening it far enough to see dew sitting on his bed, still staring at the wall.

“Nothing to talk about” dew says nonchalantly

“I’m sorry if I did anything to you” phantom starts

“You’re fine”

“I’m sorry that I annoy you”

“It’s ok” dews tone gets more annoyed everytime he speaks

“I’m sorry about what happened”

“What?” Dew finally turns his head to look at him

“You didn’t deserve that. And I’m sorry no one’s ever tried to help you” phantom practically whispers

“They did try”

“They stopped. You’re still hurting and they stopped. They gave up. And I’m sorry”

“Why do you care? I’ve always been mean to you” dew looks like he may cry himself

“I can’t blame you, it’s not fair what you’ve been through. You’re allowed to grieve in your own way since no one ever showed you how” phantom steps into the room. It smells odd, like dew hasn’t showered in a couple days. Old plates of food and bottles of water stack his bedside table, the other looking pristine and untouched with a book sitting on it. Phantom looks at the book for a couple seconds too long before dew speaks again

“It was his. It’s the last thing he read.” Dew almost smiles, “his nightstand still smells like him”

Phantom doesn’t speak, just nodding along. He doesn’t know what to say, but dew takes the silence as a chance to keep going.

“Sometimes I can smell him on you. Quintessence has a scent to it, it’s smoky and sharp, Swiss gets it too when he’s been using magic.” He chuckles “I know he’s been training you. I wish aether could’ve”

“Really?”

“He would’ve loved you bug”

[petrichorvidae]

Mushy May Day 2: Late night snacks

Rating: Teen Word count: 3,560 Pairing(s): Swiss/Dewdrop + some Phantom/Rain heavily implied on the side, as a treat. Additional: Recreational drug use, minor blood and injury, references to sex, the ever-looming threat of an earth ghoul whose weed was stolen, and the existence of cheese singles. Summary: Dewdrop and Swiss raided Mountain's personal stash, and now they raid the kitchen too! Link to it on AO3 for those who prefer!

I had to take a day off for health reasons, and then I forgot to post this last night, but now I'm back with some swissdew shenanigans!

Once again, a huge thanks to @forlorn-crows for organizing Mushy May!

~~~~~~~~~~

Dew woke up with a start when something wet touched him, hissing out into the open air and looking around wildly trying to find whatever unknown had dared to disturb his sleep. His body was still adjusting to the suddenness of being awake, and that didn’t play favourites with his eyes, so he wasn’t able to do much more than squint and swish his tail back and forth in agitation.

“Whuh…!?” Seems his brain is still too mushy from sleep to even finish getting out a single coherent word. 

He continued to swish his tail but his hiss faded away into a low growl, near-silent in volume as he was far too tired to do anything more. Dew kept blinking his eyes hoping to open them each time with a newly granted sense of sight, and if he had energy left in him he would have jumped for joy when he finally acclimated to the light. Wait, why would the light be on?

He feels stupid when he goes to pull his blanket off of him only to find that it’s not there, as a matter of fact, it’s nowhere to be found in the room, which only serves to add yet another layer to his confusion. He wouldn’t be caught dead without that thing, be it in his bunk in a tour bus, serving as a protective layer between him and whatever uncomfortable sheets the hotel they’re staying at has, or just as a source of comfort and warmth back here, home, in the abbey. Not that he needed the additional warmth though, definitely not with how things had been warming up recently combined with his Fire ghoul nature.

He looked to his side, hoping maybe he had kicked it away in his sleep after getting too hot or something, but instead, he was met with the glorious sight of none other than Swiss, sleeping like a rock, snoring louder than even Aether, and with a long and luxurious strand of drool trailing down the side of a pillow he was holding onto for dear life. And then everything clicked.

Memories flooded Dew’s head of how he and Swiss had broken into Mountain’s stash earlier that evening, getting their grubby mitts into the real good shit that he usually kept for himself, giant selfish bastard. He also remembered how they had then raided his entire Stash and left very few survivors in their wake, and how they then locked themselves in Swiss' room before participating in some stupid fucked up contest of seeing who could smoke through the most of it in a single day. Dew looked back to Swiss again, that puddle of drool had definitely grown by a few centimetres since he’d last looked. Judging by the state of him, and how Swiss was apparently dead to the world, they probably weren’t finding out who had won any time soon. Dewdrop groans and flops back down onto the bed. Of course, the one thing he couldn’t recall was both the reason for and the result of them getting into this mess.

What he hadn’t been anticipating was for his coordination to still be a little off after only being awake for a few short minutes, and thus he hadn’t been expecting his elbow to hit a sleeping Swiss right in the face. Swiss’ poor nose certainly hadn’t been expecting it, that’s for sure.

The most pathetic and hurt-sounding yelp he’s ever heard let Dew know that all those comments about his elbows being unusually bony may have some basis in truth after all. The ghoul that was dead asleep just a few seconds ago was now wide awake and hunched over himself while he clutches his nose. What Dew thinks is the slightest dribble of blood serves to sober him up a bit from his self-imposed high. He immediately starts looking around before finding what he’s looking for, locating the box of tissues on the nightstand next to Swiss’ bed and grabbing it before he can think too long about why it would be there in the first place.

“Ah shit! M’so sorry Swiss, didn’ mean to.” He blabbers out an attempt of an apology as he holds the tissues out to Swiss, who now has tears of pain threatening to spill at the corners of his eyes as he snatches the tissues from Dew, hissing at him all the while, and, yeah, he did kinda deserve that.

“Th’fuck s’wrong with you? F’ckin’ asshole.” Not even the shock of having his nose bashed by Dewdrop’s elbow could truly wake up Swiss, as it would seem. In true Swiss fashion, the larger ghoul continued to spit and hiss out more slurred insults at the smaller while he grabbed a bunch of the tissues and held them up to his bloody nose which would definitely have a pretty purple bruise on it later on that would lead to them being subjected to another of Aether’s interrogations while the Quintessence ghoul would try to figure out how two idiots like them survived for long enough in the pit to be summoned, just for them to be even bigger dumbasses.

Once Swiss had cleaned up his face and shook off his shame from being defeated by Dew’s bony as-shit elbow of all things, the Multi decided to dedicate the rest of his life to giving the Fire ghoul the dirtiest look he could muster. He wasn’t even giving him daggers now, he was giving him full-on swords. It was almost funny how mad he was trying to look, his nose all scrunched up with his ears down, fur puffed up to further set in how pissed he was with him at the moment. And yet, Dew wouldn’t forget this moment between them for Swiss' ire, which he had rightfully earned to be fair, but for how that heated silence was suddenly broken by one of the loudest growls he had ever heard come from Swiss' stomach.

They stared at each other, both looked down at Swiss' stomach, and immediately looked right back up to each other again, before simultaneously bursting out into a fit of giggles. All of Dew’s elbow’s transgressions are forgotten as they roll around on top of Swiss' bed. 

After a few minutes of giggling and another interruption, this time from Dew’s stomach, Swiss finally let out his first fully formed words since he’d been so rudely woken up. “Woah, easy there tiger, don’t gotta go roaring at me.” He put his hands up in a mock surrender “How ‘bout we go and raid the kitchen for whatever good stuff we can find? We can bring it back here and have ourselves a feast.”

Dewdrop thought about it, and he was really hungry now that they’d both been made aware by their bodies, and rather loudly at that. But, and there was always a but, Dewdrop looked over to the locked door leading out into the hallway and his thoughts stilled for a moment. The whole reason it had been locked in the first place was because they both Mountain would be out for blood once he found his stash desecrated and gone, and another memory from the evening was returned to him, this one of Mountain pounding on the door when he had finally found out what they’d done, and how the only thing stopping him from going through with his threat to kick down the door and collect retribution for his precious weed was Aether quite literally dragging him away to cool down a bit if the scuffle they had heard was anything of substance. One thing was gnawing away at his mind right now, and he made sure to voice it; “What if he’s still out there.”

Swiss understood what he meant, and looked like he was speedrunning through the exact thought process Dew had just gone through judging by the slight panic in his eyes, but apparently, he wasn’t anywhere as worried as Dew was, because he just shrugged. 

“You got any idea what time it is?”

Dewdrop chews at his lip before digging around for his phone. He manages to find it under a pillow, the very same one that now had a damp spot from Swiss drooling on it, gross. After a more than slightly judgemental look sent the taller ghoul’s way, Dewdrop turns the screen on and goes to look at the time. Swiss leans over his shoulder to take a peek for himself.

Both of them are left in silent shock at the time.

“Shit…”

“Did we really sleep for that long?”

“Must have, the phone doesn’t lie Dewbug.”

“Thought I told you to stop calling me that.” The Fire ghoul hissed, though they both knew it didn’t have any real bite to it.

“But it’s just so fun getting to see your cheeks go red like that, Dewbug.” There it was again, that toothy grin that would make a baby cry. And speaking of the devil, the Multi’s teasing paid off when he got to watch as his partner tried to hide himself amongst the pillows. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the very blush he was referring to would be found spreading its way across Dew’s cheeks at that very moment if anyone were to get a good look.

With perfect timing as always, Swiss' stomach chooses that moment to remind the two of their shared hunger, possibly saving Dewdrop from any further torment and teasing.

Getting back on track, Swiss pads his way over to the door and opens the bolt lock, but before he can even get his hand on the handle Dew is diving across the bed and towards him. “Wait!”

Swiss gives him a look that hopefully reads as ‘You really wanna starve in here?’, but goes out of his way to voice the rhetorical question anyway.

“I mean, no, but-”

“Excellent! Then let’s get-a-going and get some grub.” And with that, Swiss swings the door open, but is careful to make sure it doesn’t bang against the wall and make a noise. He may be crazy, but he doesn’t want to risk being the one to disturb anyone’s sleep. Then they’ll really be helpless when Mountain inevitably gets his claws on them. “Just, y’know, be quiet. Sneaky.” He adds in a hushed tone with a wink at the end for emphasis. And with that, the two ghouls are slowly and stealthy tiptoeing their way down the hallway, making their way to the den and by extension the kitchenette as they pass by the doors to all the rooms that the band ghouls call home. They can hope each and every one of them is occupied by sleeping ghouls, especially as they pass by the room of a certain abnormally tall Earth ghoul. Step after step, they slowly inched their way down the hall, getting closer and closer to their goal.

Finally, the narrow length of the hallway spreads out into a much wider and vastly more spacious common room, or the den as it’s come to be known. The room is near pitch black in the dark of the night, and with their minds still a little hazy from all the weed they had indulged themselves with smoking several hours ago, even with their more advanced ghoulish eyesight, they can't really make much of anything out. Swiss, showing a brief moment of rationality and even using a little logic to boot, reaches out to his side where he knew the lightswitch to be and suddenly the large space is flooded with light, though thankfully on a dimmer setting so it isn’t too much of a shock to their eyes.

What does come as a shock, is the ghoul staring at the pair from where they stand by the kitchenette, looking like a deer caught in headlights, a freshly opened pack of crackers in one hand and an entire brand new tube of Primula cheese in the other.

The atmosphere is palpable, the tension in the room so thick you could cut it, right up until a cracker falls out from the packaging and clatters when it hits the floor, that is.

“Phantom? Why the hell are you up at this time?”

That seems to make the Quintessence bristle up a did. His ears pull back when he whisper-shouts a defensive and very creative “Why are you!?”

Swiss and Dew look at each other at the exact same time, both thinking about whether they should tell him about their escapades and Mountain.

“Uhm… stuff…” Dew blurts out. Very articulated. Swiss gives him a look but he just shrugs. Well, what did the Multi want him to say?

“Hey, are those Cirrus’ crackers?” Swiss tries to deflect Phantom’s deflection, and it seems to work as Phantom is immediately right back to looking like he’d just been caught with his pants down.

Looking around and finding no way to escape from the situation, Phantom resigns and answers the question. “Yes…”

Oh, this was gonna be good. It’s nice to know they weren’t the only ones dumb enough to steal from their packmates tonight. Everyone knows how defensive Cirrus can get over her snacks, and those crackers were her favourite. The fact that they’d only just been bought and she hasn’t even gotten a chance to try them yet will just add to the drama of all this.

“Oooh~ Somebody’s gonna be in trouble~”

Phantom snaps his gaze right over to Dew, glaring at him while he utters his next words. “You don’t tell Cirrus it was me, and I don’t tell Mountain.”

Dewdrop just had to go and tease him.

“Ha, nice try kid, but the big guy already knows all about what we did.”

“Trust me, we all know.” Phantom puts it bluntly, and it doesn’t come as a surprise at all considering how loud Mountain had been earlier, and that was just what they heard through the door. “I meant I won’t tell him exactly where you guys will be tomorrow.” When raises an eyebrow at him. “I’ve been speaking to Sunny, and I’ve seen your guys’ schedules for your chores tomorrow. I’ll do it.” Oh, okay, so the new kid had finally grown some fangs it would seem. Swiss almost barks out a laugh from the shock of it all, who knew Phantom of all ghouls would be the one threatening to sic a pissed-off Mountain on them?

“Okay, okay, you win kid. Sheesh.”

And with that, they seem to slip into a truce of sorts. Phantom sets his pilfered crackers and squeezy cheese off to the side so he can find a plate, and Swiss and Dew walk past him to start rummaging through the cupboards and fridge for anything that speaks to their hunger at the moment. Swiss flipped through the cupboards whilst Dew searched through the fridge.

“All I’ve got here is a bag of chips and a half-empty box of breadsticks that may or may not be on their way to going stale already, any luck over there?” When Swiss receives no reply he looks to check on Dew, and finds his companion doing a silly victory dance as he holds up a pack of some deli meat like it’s the cub in that one lion film they’d watched a couple months back. Swiss had to bite his tongue and hold back whatever laugh or teasing comment he would have let out. It was just so pure. They were both still decently high from Mountain’s weed, raiding the kitchen in the midst of the night as quickly as possible so they could return to Swiss’ room to continue hiding from Mountain’s wrath, and Swiss couldn’t bring himself to look away from Dew. He wondered if this was what people mean when they say that it sometimes feels as if time has frozen when they look at their partners.

“Dew, you look ridiculous.” And the moment is ruined. Swiss turns to bare his fangs slightly at the younger ghoul but Phantom is unphased and just sticks his tongue out in return, the cheeky fucker. By the time Swiss turns back to Dew, he’s finished his celebration and has placed the pack of sliced meat on the nearby side, right next to where Swiss has placed his findings, before diving back on in to grab the final piece to make this meal truly perfect. 

“Boom! Cheese singles.” He smirks up at Swiss while she waves the individually packaged slices of processed cheese in his face, positively pleased at himself with his findings.

Phantom decides to pipe in again from over by where he’s now got everything he needs, the entire tube of Primula now squeezed out onto the plate with a knife carefully placed beside it, his crackers still in their pack off to the side where he’d been snacking on a few when trying to find the knife and plate. Truly a charcuterie board for kings. “You’re seriously gonna eat those? Are they even real cheese?”

Dewdrop is quick to defend himself. “First of all, yes, I am seriously gonna eat these cheese singles, and I’m gonna love every second of it. And second, I’m not gonna be judged by the ghoul who is about to eat a fuckton of crackers with squeezy cheese!” He presses an accusatory finger into Phantom’s chest. Now with being so close to him, Dewdrop takes in how the ghoul is blatantly wearing clothes that aren’t his. The shirt is obviously one of Dew’s, while not tight it was definitely on the shorter side and left a bit of Phantom’s tummy out for all to see, and if he had to take a guess on the owner of the slightly too-big boxers he had on Swiss was probably the safest bet. He didn’t miss the messy hair or how a certain bassist’s scent was clinging to him like moss to a rock right now either, and gave the ghoul a small grin and a nod of acknowledgment before deciding to tease him some more.

“I’m gonna want to wash that in the morning, aren’t I?” He refers to the shirt.

“Someone’s going to be losing their weed privileges, aren’t they?” Phantom shoots right back.

“Touché.”

“Too soon, man, too soon.” Swiss can be heard whining from off to the side of their little standoff. 

“Alright, I’m heading off now. Good luck I guess, you’ll need it.” Phantom stretched for a second before grabbing his plate and crackers and heading back towards his room, where there was no doubt a Water ghoul would be awaiting his return.

“We know.” They reply in unison and wave him off before they go grab their harvest and do the same.

Swiss is emptying all of the chips and breadsticks out into two separate bowls when they’re alerted by another door down in the hallway opening, that eerie creak causing their hackles to become raised and their ears to pull back. Dewdrop instinctively put himself between the hallway and his precious cheese singles and meat slices, ready to defend this meal with his life. “Who’s there?” Swiss calls out into the dark hallway.

Their blood runs cold when it’s none other than Mountain who emerges from the dark hallway into the dim, though still much brighter, light of the den, his imposing figure slowly approaching them with heavy steps. Swiss sidesteps over to Dew and holds the Fire ghoul’s hand in his, it was his idea to raid Mountain’s stash and if anyone’s getting their tail ripped off here, it’s going to be him. Before they know it, Mountain is stood right in front of the pair, practically snarling at them as a low rumbling growl permeates throughout the kitchenette. In what is possibly up there amongst the dumbest things he’s ever done when being growled at by a much larger ghoul he’s crossed, Dew reaches behind him blindly, grabbing around until he finds what he hopes will be their saving grace. He picks it up and, wincing as he hopes the Earth ghoul doesn’t just bite his fingers off, presents his peace offering.

“Deli meat?”

Mountain stares at the presented cuts of ham for a good long while, but his decision is finally made when his face softens, rumble dissipating as he lets out a heavy sigh. He wordlessly takes the offering and opens it up, taking a handful of sliced meat for himself before passing it over to Swiss, who only just about manages to hold onto it as he’s still stood there in shock and awe, amazed that Dew’s offering had actually worked as the Earth ghoul scarfed down the ham in record time. It does wonders to show just how hungry a ghoul can get after being mad for hours on end.

Dewdrop feels bold and a little stupid, so he decides to crack out the cheese singles too, and sidles up to Mountain before holding one out to him.

Swiss questions all of his life choices as he stands there in silence while they both watch Mountain eat the entire cheese single within seconds. He hadn’t even removed its plastic covering. Dewdrop was near tears at the horror he was witnessing. This must be their punishment for what they had done, surely.

“You two are just lucky that it wasn’t my main stash.”

[autumnslance]

I saw the Ancients all looking like lanky hyurs to be another outward expression of their extreme conformity, like the robes and masks. They can and do take any form they want when they transform, but doing so in front of other people is seen as so vainglorious as to be obscene. Otherwise they have a standard form with minimal variation that everyone uses for daily life.

I get why from an IC perspective (and have other lore posts about that conformity in ancient society and how people overlook it to meme), but I was still kinda annoyed the devs went that route in how the Ancients look, especially since then the off-the-cuff explanation for why the races of mortals post-Sundering look different, yet the same across shards, due to "environmental adaptation" reasons over only 13,000 years at most was really unthought out and downright silly.

Granted, that response is from a random panel Q&A, and obviously unexpected and so they had no notes or real answer so were a little flippant. Given the lorebooks are told from the IC perspective (including noting that the info on the Ancients and Elpis comes from the Scions' reports), we don't really get an actual answer on it even now as it's something the devs simply handwave as unimportant (and to be fair, it really is).

Like, they could have the hoods and masks to get that societal conformity while also having varied traits natively, with transformation as a rude extreme (and would make Elpis's safety rules more jarring for visitors). If the Crystal Exarch can hide his ears and tail in a hood and robe, the Ancients sure could have. Though it also probably was much easier to code for Hyur heads on Elezen bodies and so then the devs leaned into that lore-based conformity and sense of society and community they wanted to show in our few glimpses of the Ancients.

So the idea that maybe many of the Spoken Races did exist back then, but the Ancients used their aetheric mastery to conform to a basic appearance for their sense of societal conformity, and then in the Sundering some of them got stuck that way and so became modern Hyurs, could also work.

[wolfiafuntime]

Modern! Cult Member! Aether

This was meant to be a bunch of headcanons about the different members of Zhongli's cult but then I got way too deep into Aether's bit lol. Also, this is written in a (slightly different?) style.

Ft. Modern! Cult! SAGAU (X Reader but only mentions)

TW: Cults, Children being in cults + maybe some more but you're gonna have to tell me what

Published: July 3, 2023

Words: 1,824

Pages: 5.3

 He joined the cult five years after it was created, shortly after waking up from a five-year coma. Was semi-brought into the cult by his sister Lumine, but he mainly joined because he discovered that his daughter, Payton, (who is currently ten) had been indoctrinated and renamed to Paimon.

 Despite the gratitude he had towards his sister for enlightening him, he didn't like the fact that she A: Changed his daughter's name, B: Pulled her out of school, and C: Moved her into a house in the middle of nowhere. He dislikes it so much that he wants to take his daughter back and cut Lumine off completely, but he's unable to because of all the therapy he needs to go through. Physiotherapy and occupational therapy to be specific. He- despite just being brainwashed into believing a false god exists- somehow managed to pass multiple psychological assessments.

 Never gets a response whenever calls his daughter 'Payton', and it pains him so much. Even more so when she, sometimes, gets upset for saying 'the wrong name', because she now thoroughly believes her name is 'Paimon'. And somehow doesn't realize that his daughter has been indoctrinated into a cult. He doesn't even think to complain about it to anybody, because he doesn't want to be a bother :(.

 Stays in a shelter in Teyvat City as he gets back up on his feet. Either takes up a job as a bartender at Angel's Share, unknowing that his boss Diluc Ragnvindr is a member of the cult he doesn't know his daughter is in. Or he takes up his old job as a cop, despite the fact that he was put into a coma by one of his superiors. He desperately needs the money, and both are lucrative jobs.

 For about two months, his knowledge on the cult remains scarce. He only knows three things about it. A: he sun, planets, and moons were created by a god known only as the Creator, who died. B: There are seven churches that the Enlightened usually live in so they can be free of judgement. And C: Each member of the church wears some piece of jewelry representing one of their dead god's dead children. That's all he learned from Lumine before deciding he'd only talk to her about Payton/Paimon.

 Who he's taken up to calling Pay-Pai so he doesn't upset anyone.

 He gets talked into at least visiting the church during a Father-Daughter day at the park, when Pay-Pai spotted a fellow cultist church member. Officer Amber Outrider (who is his partner in the police job route). Excitedly, his daughter called the officer over, and the brunette happily obliged. The three (mainly Paimon and Amber; he doesn't like talking much) chat for a while; starting about how their respective days had been so far, before abruptly changing to Their Grace.

 "So, Aether, why haven't you visited the church yet?" Amber asks, her expression effortlessly innocent, and yet with her hands on her hips. Geniunely curious but ready to judge him at a moments notice, Aether realized. It would be best for him to be honest, he figured. After all, she was a fellow believer in Their Grace, and someone his daughter obviously trusted and admired. But his daughter, who was practically swinging his hand as she parroted Amber's question, had him hesitating...

 "Oh, I, uh, don't have a ride. And I don't want to be a bother to anybody." Aether ultimately said. A half-truth that avoided the main reason why he didn't visit the church: Lumine. Every time they met, Aether felt his anger towards her slowly rising. Mainly because he had no real opportunity to scold her for everything she's done.

 "Well, in that case, why don't I give you a ride this Monday? I'd be more than happy to take you there if you'd like." Amber offered, and Aether mentally cursed himself. Why did he have to say something that could be so easily overcome? Now he had no excuse...

 A few days later, and he's nervously sitting in the passenger seat of Amber's patrol car. And he silently allows the officer to talk his ears off about the upcoming service and the other members. Who, apparently, have been eagerly awaiting his arrival since Paimon came back raving about it.

 The drive to the church is a long one, with twenty minutes spent getting out of Teyvat City, and another forty spent on a highway. He takes a silent, steadying breath as Amber pulls into a dirt parking lot, and carefully scans the church before him. Deciding that it's in good condition, he moves his attention to the cars Amber's parking next to. A pale gold minivan, a regular white van, a blue prius, a black hona, a white dodge challenger, and two other cop cars.

 Some other people are climbing out of their vehicles at the same time he's climbing out of Amber's. And he's very surprised to find that one of them is his very own boss. In his shock, he blurts out his boss's name (Mister Ragnvindr/Chief Gunnhildr), who blinks surprisedly at him. If Diluc is his boss, he'd sigh tiredly before reminding him, for the umpteenth time, that he prefers to be called by his name. And if Jean is his boss, she'd give him a small smile before saying he doesn't need to be so formal outside of work. But, no matter who the boss is, they give him a warm welcome to the church.

 When he actually enters the building, his darling daughter charges up to him and latches herself onto his leg. And in that moment, all of his nerves vanish. His tense muscles loosen and a smile slowly comes to his face as Pay-Pai drags him to meet her friends and give him a tour of the building. It isn't until the service begins, which is about ten minutes after his arrival, that he realizes he hasn't seen Lumine at all. And it isn't until the prayers are said and the songs are sung that he gets to ask about it.

 "Oh, Miss Lumine? She left a few days ago to deliver something to the Church of Liyue, but for some reason, she hasn't returned yet..." The church's Deaconess, Barbara, explained meekly. The words instantly stuck a sense of fear into Aether's heart; the knowledge that his baby was left alone with strangers petrifying to him. And his rage towards Lumine grows hotter and brighter as he realizes his own sister is completely untrustworthy.

 He stays silent after that, knowing that, if he were not careful, the rope that is his sanity and patience would finally snap. Thankfully, he's not much of a talker, so his daughter doesn't notice anything wrong as she brings him downstairs for lunch with the other Believers. There, he mostly hangs out with the other adults and listens to them talk over wine and pie. He almost rejects some wine when one of the members, Venti, offers him some. Which is what ultimately leads him to spilling his trouble-filled guts out to the group ten minutes later.

 "Well, if you're having such troubles, my friend, then why don't you join the church and move on in? I know that you're having troubles with your sister, but it sounds like a lot of them come from not being able to see your daughter." Venti suggested, placing a comforting hand on Aether's shoulder.

 "R-Really? You *hic* guys would let me do that?" Aether drunkenly asked, his voice unsure.

 "Of course," Jean spoke, her voice instantly drawing everyone's attention to her. "It would be a shameful, as a Believer of the Creator, to turn you away in such a harrowing time."

 Safe to say, Amber didn't give him a ride back to the city that day. He did get a ride back the next day from a fellow Believer named Noelle, but that was mainly to retrieve what little things he had at the shelter. And he had a conversation with his boss to have his hours rearranged. Instead of working a five-day night shift, he's now working a three-day day shift.

 Lumine didn't appear once during the first week Aether was staying there. A fact that angered him more and more every day- but unlike before- the anger wasn't overtaking his everyday life. It seemed that one Believer, Venti, was right on the mark with what he said. Now that he was seeing his daughter on a daily basis, he was a lot happier with life.

 In the days coming up to the ceremony, he helps with various chores and participates in various religious practices. The tasks range from cleaning the church with Barbara and Rosaria, cooking with the kids, creating soon-to-be-destroyed art with Albedo, and sparring with the teens. And, of course, there was the preparation for the upcoming ceremony. Which included finding out what Vision he got, where his Vision would go, getting him some fancy clothes, and a lot of practice.

 He only has to sacrifice one thing during his stay there, and that's phone service. Because, while the church has a supply of water and electricity, there's no internet or cellular data.

 On the morning of the actual ceremony, some people from the other six churches of Their Grace arrived. That way, should he ever be chosen to deliver something to them, they would be able to easily recognize him. He had a short conversation with all of them, bonding particularly well with a pair of men named Xiao and Kazuha (from the Temple of Liyue and the Shrine of Inazuma respectively).

 The Ceremony itself was a beautiful thing, if a bit like a wedding. Everyone was dressed in their best attire, and Aether was wearing an all-white suit. He was made to stand at the entrance of the church while Jean, being the High Priestess of the church, stood behind the altar. Meanwhile, Barbara, being the only musical one in the church, stood alone on the chancel. Soon, Barbara began to sing a song- the language unknown, but said to be the universe's first language- and Jean started the Prayer of Acceptance. At the same time, Aether started slowly making his way down the aisle.

 By the time he made it to the altar, Jean and Barbara had finished their jobs. Jean then grabbed his new Vision- an Anemo jewel fashioned into an earring- walked around the altar, and put it on his left ear. And when she backed away, everyone in the church started cheering and clapping, before swarming him for hugs and handshakes.

[crystalelemental]

Full tier list is here, breaking down the F-tier. Time to expose my Hater Tendencies.

Red Realistically, Red is not inherently awful, my hate is a byproduct of the franchise itself constantly pushing him as the biggest most importantest trainer ever to live, and I despise that. He exudes nothing to me. I think his challenge in GSC also sucks, the remakes actually made it way worse, and Let's Go's conditions are so annoying I refused to even entertain the idea. I have no respect for him, and think the general fanon perception of selective mutism is giving credit where it's not due. He's just supposed to be strong and silent warrior man archetype, which is boring as sin, and people are out here making him actually interesting. Stop it. I'm trying to be a hater.

Brendan "Your dad's a gym leader so I thought you'd be a guy." "Unlike you, your dad seems tough." Brendan is a piece of shit masquerading as your first "nice" rival and I never got over the bad vibes. Fuck this dude.

Flint He looks stupid, and is in love with Volkner. Atrocious taste.

Thorton He's just kind of a dweeb, and then Masters had a really early event where he's supremely rude to Hilda for literally no reason. His vibes are rancid.

Flannery Every tier has one I look at and go "I am being a little unfair, but I must be true to my feelings." Flannery is that pick. I cannot stand Flannery for entirely unfair reasons, but nothing gets me past it. I'm sorry, it's an ongoing hangup, but I cannot get over how much I hate when they make a female character whose thing is being shy or self conscious, and put her in a revealing outfit. Like come on. I know what this is and I'm mad about it. Consider her my entry point onto some guys being just really skeevy about female character designs.

Volkner "Oh, I'm so bored of battling because no one is a challenge to me, guy who isn't even on the Elite Four." Get over yourself, loser.

Klara/Avery I'm lumping them together. I hate them both equally. Galar is already fighting an uphill battle with its atrocious aesthetic, and these two being petty losers is doing nothing to help their case.

Sordward/Shielbert I mean...do I really need to explain? His head is a penis. Literal dickhead. Worst post-game segment of the series.

Ball Guy Originally omitted, decided to include just to shit on garbage reddit meme culture. Masters, you fucked up putting this thing in here.

Mohn/AZ Okay, these two are the actual, beyond all else, bottom of the barrel losers. Why? Because they are the only inclusions that I think actively harm their games. In the case of Mohn, the only emotional center Gen 7 has is the Aether Fam, and the husband/father is literally just hanging out on an island. We know where he is. He's the bean man. And this angst gets absolutely annihilated over the fact that he's literally just right the fuck here. USUM even has him interact, only to shut down a real resolution with him. Like great Lusamine, glad you've decided to move on, that is a choice, but like. We're all really going to pretend like this wasn't the entire core of the issue and just let it all go in a half-cooked scene? I wish he never showed up.

AZ is much the same. His presence as an eternal entity wandering the earth bothers me, because honestly bro, it's been 3000 years. Do you know how quickly people change who they are? I'll give you a hint, it's fewer years than that. And at no point was there any real attempt to like. Reflect or undo his previous actions? Like you could've dealt with the machine since you knew where it was, man. You could've done literally anything. And his resolution is supposed to be one (1) battle with you where he suddenly feels like he can just let go of the weight of his sins of creating a doomsday weapon that runs on Pokemon life and committing a genocide with it. Hooray. Glad we wrapped that up. He should've just been a cautionary tale that existed in history, not a literal guy who continues to be here. I hate him so much.

[speargifted]

//People talking about the crystal curse concepts and I'll talk about Joshua's at some point but rn i wanna mention sleipnirs capacity for magic

Sleipnir is borne of magic, his entire body is an aetherical construct. His body consumes aether to exist, and so he needs to take in more. Like humans and energy.

Sleipnir is able to manifest aether into specific shapes - specifically Gungnir, and Zantetsuken - but it comes from the aether of his body and he is not able to do this forever. He needs to recharge. He also, of course, has the ability to teleport (its called the Rift Slip for Clive) in small bursts. And then the use of his copy selves

He doesn't suffer from the use of magic because he is magic. But he will weaken quickly if he uses too much. Sleipnir is weaker in blight stricken areas where there is not ambient aether to draw from, and he can be incredibly powerful in a flood. I don't think he actually has the capacity to go akashic in a real sense (he may be able to give up his will intentionally but the overload of aether wouldn't have lasting effects for him), so fighting in a flood likely just to drive him temporarily a little crazy.

Since his regular stamina is also tied to his aether, the most common reason for his death in battle is that tends to stay fighting far longer than anyone else would. He can cut down normal combatants with ease but after wave after wave he gets tired, he slows down, he can't use his magic skills. If he was killed in a completely blighted area it would likely take a lot longer to resurrect

[havesexwithghosts]

Ejecting the intruder

The realm of reason is so narrowly restricted to man and his world, that to arrogate its extension beyond that world were absurd. Magick is the apotheosis of the Irrational. He is a Mage, a truly “kingly” man, who can create from the cosmic dust the supreme image of his Will, and, projecting it upon the mirror-world through the lens of consciousness, can awaken other minds to a sense of its dynamic existence. Such is the mechanism at work behind the universe of the artist who succeeds in creating a universe that ‘others,’ so called, may enter, and in which they can play their part; for these ‘others’ are themselves but a part of the artist’s creation. Arthur Machen drew attention to a profound magical fact when he observed that an entity such as Mrs. Gamp—the inimitable creation of Dickens—is known to almost all literate inhabitants of this planet, whereas Mrs. X, Y, or Z—our next-door neighbour—is known only to the few that constitute her immediate circle of acquaintances. Yet Mrs. X is ‘real,’ and Mrs. Gamp ‘unreal,’ the figment of a human mind. But that mind, being truly creative, was potent to imbue its images with some of its vital and enduring energy so that the images came alive and haunted the minds of countless individuals.

This form of creation is truly magical; it is channelled by a mysterious faculty amenable only to the artist, the poet, the magician, to those beings who are sensitive to the slightest stress in the cosmic aether, and able to draw upon the boundless energies of the cosmic mind.

In order for such a faculty to function, the intruder, the ‘squatter’ in the form of the ego that inhabits the house of flesh, has to be ejected; for the artist creates ‘reality’ only to the degree of his own absence. All magical creation is therefore the product of absence, of le néant. They alone may attract and mould the mysterious waves of energy that swirl beyond the Abyss, that have tempered their senses to such an exquisite degree of sensitivity, that their minds are rendered perfectly subtle, and able to mirror the movements of the soul’s most fluid fantasies.

[Kenneth Grant, Outside the Circles of Time]

[snow-system-wol]

You know something awful must've happened to your Warrior in Eulmore, but the only real course of action available to you is just to pretend that you don't.

Ao3

(Tw: strongly implied self-harm (not elaborated on in this POV, but for what it's worth, it was not intentional.))

You didn't look, for better or worse. Well, not really at least, just a brief glance or few in the mirror upon each outing to be certain he'd connected with each twin successfully. Despite the urge to follow it all closely, you had other tasks of importance…and simply watching the Warrior of Light go about his business was not one of them, even if his being gone for so long worried you. 

Not that you were too worried. The way you'd summoned him, there was still a hint of that connection to his aether – you'd probably know the moment he ceased to exist in this world, should such a horrible event come to pass. So, you needn't fear whether he was still alive.

(It was a blessing that the Ocular let him travel home, lest he be able to leave from anywhere else and terrify you by the sudden absence of his soul.)

But now, you wondered whether you should've watched more closely just to know what you'd missed. The fact remained that a mystery bothered you terribly, so much more when it was one of major consequence. S'ria had returned to the Crystarium over a day ago and, well, what to do now?

Something had gone terribly wrong, that much was immediately apparent. If you'd kept more of an eye on him, you would have just known without needing to ask any questions. (But would it have helped anything? Or just served your insatiable curiosity? What if you'd seen something without being able to intervene, would that have made this better for any of you?)

The first bit of a warning was that S'ria didn't report to you upon coming back. That was his right, of course, just – well, Alphinaud did, so it would've made more sense for both to be there. Certainly, Alisaie seemed bewildered and slightly put out by his absence.

You'd heard from the guards that your guest, that tall Mystel, had safely returned to the Amaro launch from Kholusia and directly strode off deeper into the Crystarium. Later in the evening, you rather un-casually inquired about him with the Manager of Suites. Yes, he'd quietly returned to his room a while ago – was there a problem? You assured him that there was not, but arranged for a dinner to be brought up to S'ria as a courtesy.

That yielded an additional red flag. The next morning, sending breakfast to him had you receiving the report that the previous night's dinner was still outside the door, undisturbed. That was plenty enough reason for you to go knocking, but – for better or worse on timing – Alphinaud intercepted you in the Pendant’s lobby. Despite being smaller than you, he seemed immovable.

He was…a bit oddly withdrawn, you realized, though it'd been many moons since the two of you had last spoken and you did not truly have that strong of a read on him. He didn't look like he'd slept well, at minimum. Surely Alphinaud must know something, but he clearly didn't intend to tell you. Instead he simply fixed you with a challenging stare and requested that you leave S'ria his privacy for the time being – in a tone of voice that suggested it was not a request. What could you do but leave?

(You weren't exactly going to scry into his room after being clearly told to respect privacy, you fully understood how invasive that'd be – and how rightfully upset he'd be, should you see something you should not have.)

Despite having little you could do, you didn't forget about the situation, of course. You kept that whisper of aether, that barest sense of his being alive nearby, as something you were near-constantly attuned to. In lieu of checking on him, you kept tabs on your other guests instead. Alisaie carried a palpable sense of frustration and you felt a hint of camaraderie over the fact that you both seemed to be out of the loop.

(Though, she should be told far before you, all things considered.)

When you finally heard that S'ria had been spotted outside his room again – it was a relief, if only for the fact that you'd kept promising yourself to stay out of things “until”, with no sense of what that hypothetical until would entail. It was not long before he appeared before you in the Ocular, together with both twins.

S'ria did not much seem himself. He looked exhausted. He also… well, the S'ria you knew was not prone to much variety in style (in so much as you ever knew him, now years in his past). He'd only ever worn a few things during all that time at camp, and mostly there was little difference between them anyway.

He'd also been dressed consistently since you pulled him to this world. You couldn't quite place the pattern on the tunic as Ul’dahn or Hingan, but it seemed a touch nicer than what you'd last seen in Mor Dhona – similarly fitted, though. He was just as lean as you remembered, with clothing that mostly fit closely to his frame and stayed out of the way. The daggers remained holstered at his waist, so the desire to remain unhindered and quick must have stayed the same as well. He was always an agile fighter, you recalled.

Honestly, he was a bit too thin for your liking… you worried about what the last war you'd just pulled him from may have done to his health.

Given all that, you had no idea where he got that coat, nor had you ever seen him wear such a thing before.

It was a dark thing, with broad shoulders and a wide collar, the hemline down to his knees. The change in his silhouette plus the height he already had on you – it made you feel small.

It was an imposing effect – perhaps that was the intention (and perhaps a certain amount of that effect was due to his closed-off expression as well).

S'ria had never been chatty with you, not even very much as G'raha, but he was downright quiet. He simply stood by Alphinaud's side and watched impassively for much of the conversation and…

...gods, you'd done this to yourself, hadn't you?

You wanted to know what was wrong, to ask him what'd happened and how you could possibly assist him, and you were on the verge of that when it struck you again – he didn't know you. You were a complete stranger to him, one whose trustworthiness had been dubious at best from your initial actions, and he had truly no reason to confide in you nor to take comfort from you.

A part of you was so angry – not at him, of course, but at everything else. If someone had harmed S'ria, then knowing who would mean you had a direction to channel this fear. If he was willing to tell you, then you could retaliate, and you almost definitely would. You were supposed to be level headed and pragmatic about all this, but the moment you were actually in his presence again… it was suddenly more difficult than you'd thought.

(For that reason alone, it was perhaps a good thing that he seemed rather disinclined to speak on it.)

Nothing made his distrust so abundantly clear as the way he flinched when you stepped too suddenly in his direction.

It was a sobering thing to grapple with mid-conversation, trying not to visibly react to the reminder that you both were no one and meant nothing to him. (That he could even be scared of you, with this Exarch persona, gods forbid). You'd understood this was part of the plan, the consequences of lying to his face about G'raha, but…

Well, with all luck, the Exarch could at least prove himself a worthy ally.

Or at least a worthy shield, as you promised to him on the way through the woods.

You could do that much, easily. He and Alisaie could hold their own, and Alphinaud was supposedly quite the skilled healer (the records of the final battles before calamity struck were very clear on that matter) – so your role was easy to decide. You could not protect against what'd already happened, but you could protect all three of them right now, for this battle.

Your younger self would've applauded your focus. Back then, you'd wanted little more than to be allowed to truly fight alongside S'ria and perhaps get to see what such a thing looked like from right next to him. (You also would've surely died from distraction.)

That sight had been granted to you for now and it was…beautiful to behold, honestly.

You weren't sure how the Scions had so quickly learned to let their eyes slide as easily past him as any other teammate, not when he was right there fighting with such precision and speed. Pulling the creatures’ attention away from him, you needed to be wary of your own distraction upon seeing him gracefully slide into place behind his prey.

It was almost like a dance between him and you, always facing each other – with your third dance partner pinned between… and you made damned certain it was always focused on you.

The most stunning part of it wasn't that, though. It was… for what it was worth, he did trust you with this. Whether it be real trust or old combat habits, he seemed freely willing to let you pull an enemy into his blindspot, not showing any fear that either it or you may stab him in the back. You could've almost cried over that being granted to you, being allowed that much – though you'd blame the smoke from the fires should that happen.

Amidst the fighting, it was almost as though he was back to… you wanted to say ‘himself’, but that was purely off of outdated assumptions. In the small breaks in between, though, he didn't seem nearly as well.

You watched him pause a moment, catching his breath in the stifling air that swept over the burning fields. It was hot and ashy, and you tried to block the smoke with your body for a moment, for what little it mattered.

There was a distant, fragile, look in his eyes as he frustratedly pushed damp bangs away from his forehead. He cuffed up the sleeves of his coat for only a moment before he seemed to think better of it, pushing them back down and determinedly breaking back into a jog towards the village square.

It'd been for long enough, though – long enough to see a mess of barely healed claw marks littering both forearms.

They could have been from a wild beast, but... Oh, it'd be stupid to try to actually convince yourself of that. If he wasn't trying to hide them for a reason, they would've been tended to by a healer. That sense of helplessness washed over you again, the claws of your own remaining flesh hand unsheathing briefly in a shameful moment of lapsed control. It was truly none of your concern, wasn't it?

A part of you considered the merits of having some simple medical supplies be placed in his room, or perhaps discreetly asking S'ria if he wanted you to heal them enough to no longer be visible – but you were quite certain he'd just be either horrified or humiliated to know you'd seen at all. No, it was to be none of your concern.

It didn't need to mean anything, he was functioning fine now. Upright and fighting so professionally – and taking the light into himself in a manner that looked as easy and painless as you'd hoped it would be. He would be this world’s salvation – a sentiment with which he agreed. You just wish he hadn't said that he'd “become the Warrior you need” in such an exhausted tone, one that suggested whatever he was right now could not be that for you.

No, not for you – for The First rather, lest you forget your role in the narrative. The best you could do from now until the end would just be to try to earn his trust enough to find some way to lighten the burden you'd just placed on him.

[phoenix-flamed]

Full disclosure: I am totally taking so many creative liberties on top of creative liberties with this very self-indulgent AU. Which I still don't have an actual verse name for... Oops. Hopefully this description at least gives you the gist of what's going on in it.

So Maduin is an Esper in FFVI. I won't get into his story too much, but I highly recommend giving VI a playthrough, or at least watch a playthrough of it, because it's good. All you really need to know is that I want to take probably too much inspiration from him, and that in VI, Maduin is the guardian of the gate between the human world and the Espers' world.

Now, onward we go, to this idea that I'm making a verse for but have no idea what to actually do with!

In this verse and headcanons attributed to it, Maduin is an unaspected Eikon. He isn't connected to any Mothercrystal, and has no Dominant born throughout the ages, because there's never been a need nor any sense in him passing on some of his magick to anyone. His role is, simply, to guard the gate between life and death, and see to it that souls pass through the gate safely so that their aether can return to the Mothercrystals. (This has nothing to do, of course, with whether or not the person can use magick, and everything to do with the fact that all living beings are made of aether.)

When Elwin is murdered at Phoenix Gate, his soul's desperation to live and protect his family, to make sure that they're all okay, and to return to them at least one last time to tell them how much he loves and cherishes them all, moves Maduin. He feels for Elwin and his situation, and in an unprecedented turn of events, the Eikon chooses to bestow upon Elwin some of his power. Because of this, Elwin is a Dominant, but also not -- he's more like a manifestation of Maduin's power in the form of Elwin's body, with that power granting him life temporarily. Suffice it to say that the only thing sustaining his existence at this point is Maduin's magick.

With this second chance, no matter how fleeting it proves to be, he'll be able to see his heartfelt desire through -- and perhaps lend a hand as he does.

Maduin isn't aspected to any element, but is connected to the aether of the souls of the dead, and thus in this singular and vicarious way is he connected to the various Mothercrystals. He does have a sliver of fire, ice, and lightning magick, but it's so slight that it's more or less negligible. His real magick is derived from the various magicks and their elements and comprised of different aether to a point where it's an amalgamation of an indecipherable flood: appropriately referred to as, "chaos". So in holding true to Maduin's main attack in VI, his big move in XVI, and thus Elwin's big move which utilizes the Eikon's power, is Chaos Wave. It should be noted that the only reason Elwin is able to control Maduin's power is because he's now basically just comprised of Maduin's magick. One might say that it's now a part of him -- or rather, he's a part of it. (Another tidbit of information that will absolutely not at all be relevant at any point whatsoever in this AU is that Elwin will only exist so long as Maduin exists.)

[geekyglimpses-nest]

6. She's (Not) The One

Warnings: +18 minor don't interact, slow burn, graphic language, humor, sexual content, physical trauma, blood (gore), bodies/corpses, death, drug use, guns, murder (atempted), PTSD, violence, english is not my first language.

Summary: Delaney finds herself on a rollercoaster of emotions and unexpected twists. As she grapples with some pretty tough challenges, she's also unsure about where she stands with Layla, making her question the strength of their bond. Delaney's visions hint at a future that's both intriguing and uncertainfor her and those around her.

Word Count: 4,352 words (26 minutes max)

Notes at the end of chapter

♪ The Ink From Books - Sleeping At Last♪

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“I’ve had a vision” says the asgardian “A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life, and at it’s center is that” says as he points at his head

“What? the gem?” asks the scientific

“It’s the Mind Stone. It’s one of the six Infinity Stones, the greatest power of the universes unparalleled in its destructive capabilities.”

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“I looked in your head and saw annihilation”

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“Their powers, the horrors in our heads, Ultron himself they all come from the Mind Stone. And they’re nothing compared to what it can unleash.” Says the asgardian.

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The Nine Realms are not eternal. They had a dawn as they will have a dusk. But before that dawn the dark forces, The Dark Elves, reigned absolute and unchallenged” says the Asgardian God “Their leader Malekeith made a weapon out of that darkness and it was called the Aether. While the other relics often appear as stones the Aether is fluid and ever changing. It changes matter into dark matter. It seeks out host bodies, drawing strength from their life force. Malekith sought to use the Aether’s power to return the universe to one of darkness”

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“The Tesseract was the jewel of Odin’s treasure room. It is not something one buries” says Schmidt when he breaks the fake Tesseract “Yggdrasil. Tree of the world. Guardian of wisdom. And fate, also” he says as he takes the real Tesseract

“Fool! You cannot control the power you hold. You will burn!” says the old man as he is shot by Schmidt

“I have the power of the Gods in my hands”

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“At the dawn of the universe, there was nothing. Then… BOOM! The Big Bang sent six elemental crystals… hurtling across the virgin universe. These Infinity Stones each control an essential aspect of existence.” says the librarian

“Space. Reality. Power. Soul. Mind. And Time” says the Sourcer Supreme.

“Tell me his name again” asks the multimillionaire

“Thanos. He’s a plague Tony. He invades planets. He takes what he wants. He wipes put half the population. He sent Loki. The attack on New York, that’s him.” says the scientific desperate

“This is it” whispers the philanthropist “What’s our timeline?”

“No telling. He has the Power Stone and Space Stones. That already makes him the strongest creature in the whole universe. If he gets his hands on all six stones, Tony…”

“He could destroy life on a scale hitherto undreamed of.”

─━─━─━─「✦」─━─━─━─

1 year 4 months later (2018)…

The dreams are back, they invade my sleep every night. I haven’t slept for weeks now.

My body, my brain, something in me screams that something is wrong, horribly wrong. I wake up bathed in sweat, my body pulses and vibrates with an energy that accompanies me for the rest of my days, since I rise until I lay in bed. Only to stare at the ceiling as a terrible pressure installs on my body and endless headaches plague my sleep.

I haven’t seen Layla for the same reason. She’s been staying in her apartment the last week or so because she’s been preparing for a very important presentation to some investors to finally open her own design studio. We talk to each other when we both have free time, lately that seems to be more difficult to find.

I have found that the possible reason for this… dreams is because of how much hours Elodie and I have been spending on the quantum and time traveling research and the multiverse theories.

These visions… or dreams seem to be too specific to be merely elaborated by a tired mind full of data and information. Everything about them feels too real to just be mere dreams. I’ve had this kind of very vivid dreams since I’ve had a memory, they’ve been with me most of my life but this time… they seem more intense. I’m conscious in them, my mind is aware that I’m dreaming but there’s a voice in the back of my head that says they’re not just dreams. They’re always short, very short. Just when I start to piece things together, or at least I think I am, It all ends and I wake up with nothing but fragments of this dreams. Voices. Must of them are…warnings of something.

Yesterday I ended up sleeping in one of the coaches in my office. As I stand an almost electric flow of energy runs through my body and I shake. The day hasn’t even started and a headache is splitting my head in two already, it usually happens when I sleep in a very uncomfortable position. I look at my phone and see I have two missed calls from Layla, I listen to the voicemail she leaves behind as I go to the bathroom to wash my face and teeth.

“Hey beautiful, I just got home and I hadn’t read the text of you staying in the lab tonight, so now I’m kinda of in a bad mood cause I really wanted to come home to you and I don’t know… watch a movie or something before tomorrow, but don’t worry, I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I know how important is this research for you. So I guess I’ll take this time to work on my own stuff before going to sleep. Anyway I just wanted to say I love you and I hope everything works fine over there and please for gods sake, don’t forget tomorrows date because I’m very exited about it. Love you and please rest, bye.”

Yeah, I definitely forgot and she knows it, that’s her subtle reminder to me, I sigh and exit the office. The first thing I see is Elodie’s slopped body on her desk, her glasses are long gone and her mouth is slightly open, gentle snoring coming out of it. I call for Brixton and his by my side in seconds, I grab his leash and we both walk outside. There’s a small coffee shop a few steps away from the lab, is not as good as the one Layla used to work at but it does the job to wake me and shake the bad mood off my body.

Today’s morning on Enumclaw is gray and windy, seems like rain is going to happen very soon. On my walk there I see people on their daily morning runs, some of them recognize me and they wave at me, I do the same with a bit less energy. I see mothers, fathers, sons and daughters walking to the school bus stop.

When I reach the small coffee shop, the cashier and bartender, Adam recognizes me.

“Doctor, good morning and hello to you too Brixton” Brixton barks once, Adam smiles at him “The usual?”

“Please, make it two” he nods and starts to work on my order. The T.V. in the cafeteria is on the news channel

“Hey Adam, would you mind turning up the volume of the T.V?” says the young lady who’s having coffee, she’s here every morning when I come for coffee too, her laptop prompt in front of her, she takes her glasses of and looks at the T.V. Adam does as he’s asked and also stares at the T.V. I do too out of curiosity.

“Good morning Washington. Today we were woken with the news that once again, New York City was visited and attacked by aliens. Jackson Norris is on the ground and has more details about this event, we’re listening to you Jackson”

“Good morning Will. We’re currently located in the W. 43rd St. We were told by witnesses here is where everything began. They say a circular spaceship came out of nowhere and that’s when fear and panic invaded the streets of New York once again. People started running and seeking for shelter of the terror that had begun on the streets. First responders were alerted to evacuate all citizens south of 43rd st. by the Iron Man” I tense. Shit, that’s part of Hell’s Kitchen “In the battle field that was left behind witness say the Iron Man, Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange and Wong were seen speaking with such aliens before they started to engage on a brutal fight that certainly left wreckage and destruction behind”

The image of Jackson Norris is interrupted to be replaced by a shaky video taken by someone inside one of the buildings. One of two alien like forms speak on one side of the street and Stark, Banner, Strange and Wong in the other. Winds of dust and trash travel through the streets, cars are on fire, fallen light stops, debris everywhere to be seen. Local shops have shattered windows, behind them frighten civilians hide from the streets.

“Hear me and rejoice” pronounces one of the aliens “You are about to die at the hands of The Children of Thanos. Be thankful that your meaningless lives are now contributing…”

“I’m sorry, Earth is closed today” interrupts Tony Stark “You better pack it up and get outta here.”

“Stonekeeper. Does this chattering animal speak for you?”

“Certainly not. I speak for myself. You’re trespassing in this city and on this planet.” Strange and Wong come forward and orange circles surround their fists.

“He means get lost, Squidward” says Stark

The other alien starts to run towards them and Tony Stark’s body is soon transformed and protected by the Iron Man suit. The alien seems is about to hit Iron Man but is surprised by one of his potent light beams, the video ends with the screams of the people behind the video. The image of Jackson Norris is back on the screen

“The fight then moved to a nearby park where the local superhero, Spider-man was also seen joining this fight. Not shortly after this, Stephen Strange and Spider-man where abducted by the spaceship and taken away from the atmosphere of our planet, the figure of Iron Man was seen flying behind them too. For all we know they’re all reported as MIA. The people of New York were saved from a possible tragic event that fortunately ended before it started. Nearby hospitals report there are no losses to be mourned, just a couple injured. The citizens of this city have developed yet another trauma related to alien invasions. Thankfully another of New York’s local heroes known as The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen has been spotted helping civilians get to their homes safe or to nearby hospitals to be treated. It’s been hours since the attack and the press hasn’t received any updates from the Avengers organization or the UN. A press conference will be held in couple hours in the White house where the president will address the nation and their latest concerns on regards this recent alien invasion. For WHiH World News this was Jackson Norris, back to you Will”

“Thank you Jackson. We will update you as soon as this press conference happens. For now let go with Mikael, for the latest report on the weather…”

“Well just another day on Earth right?” says Adam

“Yeah, let’s just hope it’s nothing serious” says the young lady who’s now returned to her laptop

“Your coffee’s doctor” says Adam and extends two hot cups at me. I take them and pay for them “Have a good day doctor, goodbye Brixton” he says with a smile.

I leave the cafeteria with a dream like feeling on me, my body feels like it’s floating. Once again, the echo of a voice makes me halt.

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“The entire time I knew Thanos, he only had one goal. To bring balance to the universe by wiping out half of all life. He used to kill people planet by planet, massacre by massacre. If he gets all six Infinity Stones, he can do it with the snap of his fingers like this”

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The sharp sound of a horn and barking wake me. I’m in the middle of the street. I turn and see a car that’s a few inches of hitting me, the driver keeps honking at me to get out of the way, Brixton pulls me so I walk. I cross the street and a woman stares at me as if I’m crazy.

Why did I cross the street like that? I don’t remember walking there. My heart pounds against my chest, my ears ring, my vision has black spots and I have to stop to breathe to stop myself from fainting from the adrenaline overload.

The lab is now in front of me. Once I regulate my myself and the adrenaline I go in.

As soon as I get in, the sound of music invades the space, the vocals of a woman are loud “Elodie?” I ask

“Yeah! I’m making breakfast, or at least I was trying” she says with her back turned to me. I see her in the kitchen.

“I brought coffee” I say

“Good! I burned the one we had in here, sorry. I’ll buy more.” she says “Looks like we're going to have to go with bagels, at least I didn’t burned them all” she says turning with a plate of 4 bagels, some of them with black spots “Well… they’re eatable. Oh… by the way, Layla was here earlier. She was hoping to see you before going to work. She asked me to tell you to please call her”

“I’ll call her after breakfast. I didn’t wake up with the best of moods and I haven’t had my coffee yet” I say as I sit in the breakfast counter where Elodie has displayed dishes and utensils.

“You heard about that whole thing about the alien invasion in New York City” she asks as she sips through her coffee.

I nod “Yeah, that might be part of the reason I’m in a bad mood” she hums

“I called my grandma to make sure she was alright you now? She lives in Hell’s Kitchen, you used to live there too right?” I nod

“Yeah, long time ago. We should get started, I’ll be leaving early today, I have a date with Layla, and… it is Friday, you should leave too, if you want to” she nods and wipes her mouth “Yeah, probably will, I have some sleep to catch on, besides my girlfriend is on leave anyway I want to spend some time with her too” I stand “Great, meet me in my office in half an hour for a meeting please, we’re so close to finish going through all the research” she walks to her space and powers up the systems.

I enter my office and first thing I do is call Layla

“Hey honey” she says with that sweet undertone of hers when picking up a call “I was in your office earlier but you weren’t there, everything okay?”

“Yeah, I went out for an early coffee run for me and Elodie”

“Oh! that’s okey. I just wanted to know if you had slept at all. Elodie told me you guys had a really long night”

“We did, but we actually made a lot of progress”

“Good, that’s good news. You sound tired, maybe we should cancel our date, order in and stay home tonight?”

“No, no, don’t cancel it. I’m fine, besides I know how exited you’re for that date. You even bought a dress, and I can’t wait to see you on it, I’ve been waiting since last week.”

“You sure?” she asks concerned

“100%” I assure her

“Alright. Well, I dropped off some fresh and clean clothes for you to change into, and I also left you your personal cleaning bag” I sigh

“Your an angel sweetheart, thank you.”

“Alright, I gotta go, meeting is about to start, they’re waiting for me” she says in a low voice

“Kick ass sweetheart. You worked very hard on that presentation” I say

“Always do. Love you” she says and she hangs up the phone.

After the call with Layla I call Mrs. Durmaz, she picks up immediately.

“My darling girl, hello, how are you?” with Turkish accent in her voice

“Hello Mrs. Durmaz. Well you know just checking in, how are you?”

“I just came home from our early run” she says

“How is Arturo?”

“Still here dear, he at his studio, working.”

“That reminds me, how was the moving? Did the guys I recommend any good?” I ask as I wait for my computer to boot up

“They were perfect dear, they stored and accommodated everything how I wanted”

“Good, they sure weren’t cheap”

“By the way, how much do I owe you?”

“Nothing, and that’s it on that matter”

“Okey, I won’t insist but I warn you I will return the favor. How are the plans for Christmas coming along?”

“Well. I already booked the hotel you wanted, since you refused to stay at my home, in which I could’ve accommodate you easily”

“Believe me darling, you don’t want us in there. You won’t be able to sleep”

“Yep, that’s enough information Mrs. Durmaz”

“How’s that girlfriend of yours? You putting a ring on that finger any time soon?”

“She’s fine, she’s about to fulfill a long time dream. And about the ring… I don’t know. I think it’s to early yet, we just moved in”

“Dear I’m going to be honest with you, I always have. Last time I asked you how you truly felt about Layla, you said everything you loved about her and how good she made you feel. Basically you told me you liked who you were around her, but I did notice you never actually told me you loved her. Have you thought… that…maybe she’s not the one dear and that’s why you feel like it’s rushed. I mean you guys have been dating for a while now. Dear I’m not saying this because traditionally marriage is what follow, I say it because Layla has said to me and you, she wants to take your relationship the next stage and to her… that’s marriage. Have you ever thought you’re with her just because it’s comfortable? Have you even say I love you back to her?” she asks.

It’s too damn early for this kind of conversation.

I’m grateful that she’s came into my life, and that after this long she hasn’t left. She’s everything I could’ve dreamed of, understanding, loving, caring, thoughtful and so much more. I was doomed and in a hole I thought I’d never get out of. Being with Layla feels so easy and… logical. She saved me. She held my hand when I needed it the most.

But love… What if Mrs. Durmaz is right, maybe she might not be the one for me, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her. I’d always noticed that she does experience this relationship far more intensely than I do. She says it constantly. She knows what she wants, I don’t. Is it fair to pretend to be right there with her but not really?

She deserves someone much better, in a better state of mind, healthy. She deserves what she’s giving. She’s given everything of her to me and I haven’t reciprocated and sometimes I think she pretends she’s okey with it, but I don’t think it’s fair. She needs someone who loves her just as intensely.

“Dear you must realize that this silence says everything I need to know. You must talk to her soon, don’t keep her next to you if you have no intentions of taking her seriously, at least the way she must be expecting you to. Believe me, by own experience, that hurts too much” I know “Just think about it dear. It’s okey to not be in the same place that she is, but it’s not okey for you not to tell her that. The final decision has to hers, not your. Don’t keep her there if you’re just going to break her heart tomorrow, or next month, or next year”

“I know… I’ve actually been thinking the same this last couple weeks. Now that we’ve moved in together, she’s starting to bring up subjects about our future and every time she brings them up it’s like my body goes completely tense”

“It’s a sign dear. Your own brain is telling you that your not ready to go into something so serious. Even though your heart wants to and even if you want to trick yourself into believing that she’s the one” she sighs and I can hear her shifting on the other side of the line “I married my husband not because I loved him, I married him because it was the only way I saw to get out of my country safely, start a new life and forget about my past. Mr. Durmaz was 13 years older than me, he was cold and distant because of the war, death and destruction he saw, but he was never cruel or violent. I cared for him and I was grateful because even after everything he always took care of me and our family, he was a good man and father. But I didn’t love him the way he would’ve wanted me to and that hurt and hunted him the rest of his life. He became bitter with time and then died. What I’m trying to say is don’t do force yourself to feel something that you don’t feel, safe her and yourself a worst pain”

“I’m scared”

“Why are you scared?” she asks

“Because after everything that went down on New York and D.C I thought I was dead, that I would never feel like that again. She gave me that. She gave me hope, she made me realize that I could still feel like that. What if I won’t find anyone again?”

“Oh dear. You say that because you’re young, you feel like a breakup might be the end of the world, but it isn’t. The world is more complex than that, you will get through this. But you can’t keep this up anymore. I’m not saying do it right now, just think about it and see if this could be true”

“I will Mrs. Durmaz” I can hear someone saying her name in the background “That sounds like Arturo, I’ll let you go Mrs. Durmaz”

“Promise me you’ll think about what we talked about”

“Promise”

“Please take care dear. Don’t forget to eat, drink water and sleep. I love you”

“Take care too Mrs. Durmaz, I’ll talk to you soon”

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

The light of the sun hits my closed eyes. I can hear birds singing and water running. The breeze weaves it’s way through the grass and flowers, conducting a symphony of whispers. I open my eyes, the sight is breathtaking. Above, the sky transitions through the tranquil depths of cobalt blue to the regal richness of purple, and finally, to the fiery embrace of orange. Each color seems to dance with the others, painting the heavens in a symphony of celestial beauty. It’s as if the sky itself is a grand theater, putting on a spectacular performance for all who care to look up and marvel at its splendor. The sun is setting in the background, waving it’s last goodbye. Next to the sun is a moon on a waning crescent, this one much bigger than ours. Closer too.

I’m barefoot, the tall grass under my feet is wet, it’s not unpleasant. A fresh breeze is present. The gentle caresses of each blade and petal inviting one to linger and lose oneself in the enchanting embrace of the meadow’s embrace. Tall green mountains stand in front of me, waterfalls run through them.

On the land stands a small wooden house.

The place feels like a place where you come to have a vacation from everything happening in the world. Peace and silence is everywhere, it’s the kind of a place where you retire to once your old enough. But it also feels lonely and deserted. There’s something dark about this place. The energy that surrounds it is good but the closer I get to the small house, a darker energy seems to rise, something pulls me away from it. It feels like I’m fighting against the wind.

I stop, someone is in the house. They’re tall, broad back and purple skin, half it’s body is burned. They turn, half their face is also burned. They look at me, I look at them, shivers run through my body. The darkness grows by the second. They wear a gauntlet with glowing stones, each different color and size, they’re broken. They have a particular energy running through them but the stones seem to potentiates the darkness in them. They suffer.

I see pain, I see loss, I see loneliness.

I try to walk towards them but they rise the golden gauntlet and snap their fingers.

An expansive wave hits my body and I fly through the air.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Modern Big Bang theories predict that our local universe came into existence with an instant of inflation, in other words, a small fraction of a second after the Big Bang in which the universe expanded at a colossal exponential rate.

The observable part of our universe would then be just a kind of ‘cozy’ pocket universe, a region in which inflation has ended and stars, galaxies and planets, like our own, could form. The usual theory of eternal inflation predicts that, on a global scale, our universe is like an infinite fractal, with a mosaic of different pocket universes, separated by an inflationary ocean.

Elodie knocks on my glass door and I glance at her acknowledging her presence

“I’m leaving Dr. Kingsley, my girlfriend just got here. Isn’t your date suppose to be in like twenty minutes?” she says looking at her watch.

Oh… right.

I stand from my chair and turn the computer off “I left all the systems on so that if there’s any changes we can get notified, if it’s important of course” I continue to get ready to leave “Thank you Elodie, say hi to Jess for me please” she nods “I’ll see you Monday boss, have a great weekend” I smile at her, she leaves the lab and I see through the glass she gets into a car and head off.

I make sure all the systems are on and close the lab. I head off on to the address Layla has sent. I sent her a text

“On my way to you”

Previous chapter | Series Masterlist | Next chapter

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Notes: I was gone for a bit but I think I'm back. This chapter is a long one, with the progression of the story the chapters will progresively get longer and more packed with info. We're getting there, just you wait.

Thank you for reading and please, if you can, interact with the story. Coment your thoughts, theories, etc. I'd love to talk to you. Share if you like it and you feel someone would be interested in reading it. The interaction really helps me so much.

With love, geekyglimpses-nest out 👋🏽

[heretic-altias]

FFXIVWrite Day 15 - Portentous

This feels more like a reflective ramble in Altais's brain than a proper story, but I think it counts lol. She is a woman of many mistakes, but this one might be the biggest.

Don’t know my characters? Here’s a basic breakdown to help you out!

~

An Au Ra’s scales could give them warnings for all sorts of things if one paid attention. Most people would only notice the ones related to health, dull scales typically meant poor nutrition and if they were dull and flaking off there was probably something seriously wrong.

But as Altais had discovered, they could also warn of aetheric corruption.

She should have heeded it when the scales along her right seem edged with a blue tint. But she had not. And now her aether was forever corrupted, and she was stuck with this primal that was a strange fusion of Bahamut and whatever had been going on in her head at the time.

This wasn’t even the first time her scales had shifted with aetheric corruption. On the First, they had started to slowly turn a brilliant white, somehow whiter looking than even a Raen’s naturally shining white scales. It had been a stark contrast against the usual black color, and alarmed her instantly. 

The scales on her arm had not been changed on quite that level now at least. They were still their usual dark color, but when they caught the light the lower edge of each scale seemed to have a blue shine to it. And it was only here on her lower right arm, the arm she held her weapon in. Perhaps that’s why it had been easy to ignore. Roll down a sleeve and it was like it wasn’t even there.

But why had she acted that way? She thought she’d had her pursuit of power in check, but she’d thrown everything she’d learned out the window to keep messing with a dangerous prototype that was clearly unsafe. Even using it in real battles. The first time had simply been because she hadn’t had time to change out the weapon’s core to the stable one that simply channeled fire. The fusion of summoning magicks into her gunblade had proven incredibly powerful put to the test. But also incredibly dangerous. The weapon’s core couldn’t handle all of Demi-Bahamut’s power and it had overflowed into Altais’s body. She had felt it.

And yet she’d kept going. And the corruption to her aether had built and built until it exploded. If Solar had not subdued the primal, it probably would have drained all of her life force and killed her.

Even now, having settled things so Bahamut didn’t actively try to take over that risk existed. She could call upon his power, but too much too fast and she would drop dead.

The cost had been far too high for the power she’d gained. And still, she had no idea what had driven her.

Did the corruption to her aether cause the primal to have an influence on her actions before it was even summoned? Or was it her own fear of weakness that led to madness? Perhaps both? Even those well versed in primals and summoning magicks weren’t entirely sure. The fervor with which she had pursued the project had been strange, and perhaps the primal’s influence had only made it worse.

She had at some point gotten greedy thinking she could use something that was fundamentally broken. Had she stepped back and reworked the concept it might have been salvageable. And she had already been torn into by both Cid and Stephanivien for that mistake. It was a mistake someone on her level of magitek engineering knowledge should not have made.

But for some gods forsaken reason, she had ignored every logical warning.

And she could blame the primal she was stuck with all she wanted, but the choice had still been hers. She was a strong willed person and blessed with the echo. The smallest influence couldn’t have nudged her unless to a degree she wanted to pursue it to begin with.

Altais wished she could understand what had been going through her head at that time. Akku had told her it seemed the incident with the light aether on the First had spooked her. And maybe it had. She had been utterly helpless as death and corruption crept up on her.

But did that scare her so much that she had chosen to welcome the same thing all over again?

At the very least, she had finally managed to communicate with this Bahamut so he wasn’t trying to actively take over and bring chaos anymore. For now, he was content to just encourage it whenever Altais herself wanted to burn something down. The original Bahamut had been an honorable wyrm, and Altais would just have to hope this primal’s honor would hold even so detached from the original dragon.

If nothing else, she had learned her lesson from this. She should have already known, but she had been put in her place by the power she’d toyed with firmly enough where she wouldn’t try it again. Now she would simply work on channeling the power the corruption she already had gave her, if she was stuck with this she was going to make it useful.

But never again would she be so utterly reckless in her pursuits.