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moons-and-mobility-aids · 1 month ago

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Content Warnings: Adult content (video of a MMM threesome, d/s dynamics, praise kink), mostly accurate depictions of being an onlyfans creator ( hi, I am one), reader is fem, uses a wheelchair, and has cerebral palsy. Taglist: @alohastitch0626, @jspidey5

Your thoughts have been straying to them more often than you'd like to admit.

From the moment Prongs subscribed to you, they've been a persistent presence at the back of your mind. Their comments, their likes, their messages—all carrying an undercurrent of something that piques your curiosity. You've never been one to pay too much attention to specific followers, but these three...they're different.

Is it the way Prongs flirts without crossing boundaries, his words always respectful yet suggestive? Or perhaps it's Padfoot's bravado, his messages imbued with a confidence that makes you want to learn more about the man behind the screen. And then there's Moony, ever present and yet so elusive, his own brand of mystery stirring questions within you.

The knowledge that they are creators as well is inescapable. It was made evident when Prongs subscribed to your OnlyFans, and the content on his free feed has not gone unnoticed by you. You hesitate to watch any of it, afraid of what you might feel if you do, yet curiosity gnaws at you with persistent teeth.

The temptation to find their profiles on the free porn sites has been there since the beginning, a low hum in the back of your mind. You know they have them—Prongs mentions his in his bio, and it would be strange if Moony and Padfoot didn't as well. But you've held yourself back, created an unspoken rule: just because they consume your content doesn't mean you need to consume theirs.

Today, that rule is harder to follow. Your curiosity is piqued, not just by what they've said but by the mystery of them. The way they speak, the things they like... it paints a picture you're desperate to see filled in. You want to know what their voices sound like, how they move, the dynamic between them that's hinted at in every message, and if you’re being honest, the thought of seeing them together on screen sends a thrill through you that's hard to ignore.

You power up your laptop, the screen's glow casting long shadows across your desk. It doesn't take long to find what you're looking for—their online identities are well known in certain circles, their usernames public, their content tantalisingly explicit.

The thumbnail image of the first video you find is eye-catching; as always, their faces are hidden, their identities preserved by careful angles and strategic cropping, but there's an intimacy to the way their bodies entwine that speaks volumes, even in this tiny preview.

Your pulse quickens as you hover over the play button. You've watched countless videos before—you create adult content yourself, after all—but there's something different about this one. Perhaps it's the fact that you've interacted with them, shared a few messages, imagined them watching you perform with the same intensity you're about to direct at their on-screen display.

You click play.

The video starts mid-scene, the three of them already engaged, their bodies tangled. It's not the polished product of a professional studio; there are no theatrical lights or artificial poses. Instead, it captures a scene that feels stolen from someone's private moments—intimate, raw, and achingly real.

You can't see their faces, as expected, but somehow that doesn't detract from the allure. If anything, it enhances it, allowing your imagination to fill in the gaps, painting a picture that's more personal than any explicit detail could provide.

Prongs is on his knees on the bed, holding Padfoot's hips as he drives into him from behind. Their movements are fluid yet intense, a testament to familiarity and desire woven together. Even without seeing Prongs's face, you can hear his heavy breaths punctuated by soft grunts, each one matching the rhythm of his slow, deliberate thrusts. Padfoot is on all fours, his head buried in the sheets, but his participation is far from passive. Every now and then, his back arches, a low moan escaping him and getting absorbed into the fabric beneath.

Then your gaze shifts, and you find Moony.

He's positioned at the head of the bed, leaning against the headboard, legs spread wide. One hand rests in Padfoot's hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands while guiding him where he wants. Padfoot's mouth works eagerly on him, the sound of slick movement barely audible over the ragged breaths filling the room. Moony's other hand lies idle on his thigh, fingers tracing absent patterns on his own skin, a stark contrast to the control he exerts elsewhere. Despite the fervor with which Padfoot services him, it's clear who sets the pace, who holds the reins of this encounter.

His voice is the first to reach your ears—steady, low, a soothing balm that belies the tension beneath. And yet, there's something else in his tone, an edge that prickles at your senses and sends shivers down your spine.

"Good boy," Moony murmurs, the words slipping out like a caress. "Just like that, Pads."

You lean closer to the screen, breath hitching as you hear him—really hear him—for the first time. His voice is just as you imagined it: firm but not harsh, commanding without needing to raise its volume. It's clear who holds the reins here, even if Prongs is the one driving the action.

Prongs grunts softly, the sound reverberating through the room as he buries himself deeper into Padfoot. He moves with calculated precision, each thrust gaining momentum as he finds his rhythm. There's a restraint in his movements, a sense of control teetering on the edge of release. You can almost feel the anticipation coiling within him, waiting for the signal to let go. Despite being the one physically leading, it's obvious he's not the one calling the shots.

"Such a greedy boy," Moony's voice coos, a softness there that contradicts the rough pull of his fingers through Padfoot's hair. He tugs lightly, guiding Padfoot's movements with a firm but gentle hand. "You need it so much, don't you?"

The sound that rumbles from Padfoot's throat is all the answer he needs, and Moony chuckles.

Prongs makes a sound, half-growl and half-gasp, as he thrusts into Padfoot. His grip appears to tighten on Padfoot's hips, fingers digging into firm flesh. The rhythm is relentless, driving them both towards a precipice they can't yet see but can feel looming ever closer.

"Fuck," Prongs breathes, the word barely audible over the slick sounds of their bodies moving together. "So fucking tight."

Padfoot whimpers, the noise muffled by the length filling his mouth. His body rocks forward with each of Prongs's thrusts, pushing him further onto Moony.

It's too much—the sight of them, the sounds they make, the raw intimacy of this moment. It's like watching a dance only they know the steps to, a silent understanding passed between them with every move. You feel like an outsider here, looking in on something sacred and private.

Yet you can't tear your eyes away.

The camera angle shifts, bringing into sharper focus the way Moony's hand rests in Padfoot's hair, fingers rhythmically tightening and loosening as if conducting an orchestra of pleasure. It's a subtle show of power, one that belies the calm detachment in his voice. Yet there's a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, a soft hum of approval when Padfoot's moans grow louder and Prongs's breath hitches with each slow, deliberate thrust.

"Fuck, Moony... can I—" Prongs's voice is strained, the words barely more than a breathless rasp against the backdrop of flesh meeting flesh.

"No." The denial is swift, Moony's voice steady even as it curls around the edges with a hint of amusement. "Not yet. You wait until I say."

A low groan rumbles from Prongs's throat, but he doesn't protest further. His hands tighten around Padfoot's hips, guiding him with an urgency that borders on desperation. Yet even as he seeks release, there's a restraint to his movements, a conscious effort to hold back the tide that threatens to sweep him under. It's as though he's fighting against the current, struggling to stay afloat while Moony's words pull him deeper into uncharted waters.

The sounds of Padfoot's pleasure grow in volume and urgency, mingling with the wet noises of his mouth working over Moony's length. His breath hitches as he tries to keep pace with the onslaught of sensation, giving himself over entirely to the moment.

You watch, entranced by the scene playing out before you. There's a rawness to it, yes, but also an unexpected intimacy in the way their bodies respond to one another. This is more than just sex; it's a display of trust, of need, a manifestation of a bond that runs deeper than skin.

A low groan ripples through Moony, his fingers flexing against Padfoot's scalp. He tugs the dark curls, pulling Padfoot’s head back, forcing him to look up. The camera angle still shields Padfoot's face from view, but there's no mistaking the tension coiling in Moony's frame, the tremor in his voice as he speaks.

"You're doing so well for us, Pads," Moony murmurs, his voice barely audible above the rasp of cloth and skin. His hand moves from Padfoot's hair, disappearing from view but its destination is clear — a gentle caress against a cheek that goes unseen but not unfelt. "You want to come, don't you? You've been such a good boy."

Padfoot makes a sound, half-choked and desperate, as he nods. The motion is sharp, almost frantic, and the camera holds steady, capturing the raw edge of need that vibrates through him.

A soft chuckle rumbles from Moony, and the camera pans out slightly, bringing Prongs back into view. He’s straining, holding back with visible effort even as he drives into Padfoot with a steady rhythm. “What do you think, Prongs? Has he earned it?”

Prongs groans, the sound thick with need. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

You can't see Moony's face, but you can hear the satisfaction in his voice as his hand returns to Padfoot's hair, guiding him back to his waiting erection. "Come for me, Pads."

The command sends a ripple of anticipation through you, and you watch as Padfoot's body stiffens, his hips jerking in sync with the low moan that escapes his lips. The sound is muffled by Moony's cock, but it's loud enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Prongs lets out a deep grunt then, his rhythm faltering as he reaches his own climax. His body trembles against Padfoot's, the two of them caught in the throes of ecstasy under Moony's watchful gaze.

"Good boys," Moony murmurs, his hand still buried in Padfoot’s hair.

The video cuts out then, leaving behind only the image of them lying there together, bodies still moving in small, unconscious ways from the aftershocks of their shared pleasure. It feels intimate, like something you shouldn’t be seeing but can't tear yourself away from.

As the screen goes dark, you lean back in your chair, your heart racing and your skin tingling from what you've just witnessed. You’ve seen plenty of porn before, and made hours of it yourself, but this… this was something else entirely. More real, more visceral. There’s a connection between them that’s hard to put into words, a bond that transcends the physical act they’ve just performed.

You close your laptop, letting the images settle in your mind. You've heard their voices now, seen them in action, and it's only fuelled your curiosity, your interest. You wonder how they would react if they knew you were watching too, with the same intensity they've been watching you.

For now, you let the moment linger. You've stepped over a boundary today, one that feels both exhilarating and dangerous, but there is no regret. Only anticipation for what comes next.

#Poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #Sirius black x reader #Sirius black x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #james potter x you #james potter x reader #marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfic #beyond the screen

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talonabraxas · 4 months ago

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A B R A C A D A B R A

The word Abracadabra is said to derive from an Aramaic phrase meaning "I create as I speak." However אברא כדברא in Aramaic is more reasonably translated as "I create like the Word."

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made."

In the beginning was the Word: the Logos, the sound frequency (vibration).

We know that speech means not just any kind of a vibration, but a vibration that carries information.

Thus, I create like the Word.

In the Hebrew language, the phrase translates more accurately as "it came to pass as it was spoken."

History:

The first known mention of the word was in the third century AD in the work Liber Medicinalis by Quintus Serenus Sammonicus, a physician to the Roman emperor, who suggests to wear an amulet containing the word written in the form of a triangle:

A - B - R - A - C - A - D - A - B - R - A A - B - R - A - C - A - D - A - B - R A - B - R - A - C - A - D - A - B A - B - R - A - C - A - D - A A - B - R - A - C - A - D A - B - R - A - C - A A - B - R - A - C A - B - R - A A - B - R A - B A

Abracadabra and the Gnostics:

Abracadabra was used as a magical formula by the Gnostics of the sect of Basilides in invoking the aid of beneficent spirits against disease and misfortune. It is found on Abraxas stones, which were worn as amulets. Subsequently, its use spread beyond the Gnostics.

Abraxas:

Have you ever been mesmerized while waiting for the sunrise? As you watch the horizon for that first burst of light, you get swept up in the eternal present moment. With baited breath, your sense of time is suspended, and you’re primed for a miracle. This is the “liminal zone,” the threshold between night and day, between here and there, between this and that. It’s the crossroads where anything is possible. And then the dawn breaks through, like a sudden burst of inspiration, like an act of creation: “Let there be light.” That is the magic of Abraxas, an enigmatic name that has perhaps always been closely associated with the power of the sun. This strange, mysterious name captures that magical, suspended, timeless moment: “all of time as an eternal instant.” Abraxas is the power of infinity—the promise of endless possibilities, the “cosmos�� itself. In mythology, Abraxas is the name of a celestial horse that draws the dawn goddess Aurora across the sky. The name suggests a power that is not properly ours but rather a gift from another world.

But what of the name’s origin? It is likely, as an etymologist posited in 1891, that Abraxas belongs “to no known speech” but rather some “mystic dialect,” perhaps taking its origin “from some supposed divine inspiration.” Yet scholars, of course, search for a root. There are speculatory shreds of evidence which suggest that Abraxas is a combination of two Egyptian words, abrak and sax, meaning “the honorable and hallowed word” or “the word is adorable.” Abrak is “found in the Bible as a salutation to Joseph by the Egyptians upon his accession to royal power.” Abraxas appears in “an Egyptian invocation to the Godhead, meaning ‘hurt me not.’” Other scholars suggest a Hebrew origin of the word, positing “a Grecized form of ha-berakhah, ‘the blessing,’” while still others speculate a derivation from the Greek habros and sac, “the beautiful, the glorious Savior.” The name has appeared in the ancient Hebrew/Aramaic mystical treatises The Book of Raziel and The Sword of Moses, and in post-Talmudic Jewish incantation texts, as well as in Persian mythology.

An interesting occurrence of Abraxas is found in a papyrus from late antiquity (perhaps from Hellenized Egypt, though its exact origin is unknown). The papyrus contains “magical recipes, invocations, and incantations,” and tells of a baboon disembarking the Sun boat and proclaiming: “Thou art the number of the year ABRAXAS.” This statement causes God to laugh seven times, and with the first laugh the “splendor [of light] shone through the whole universe.”

The Basilideans, a Gnostic sect founded in the 2nd century CE by Basilides of Alexandria, worshipped Abraxas as the “supreme and primordial creator” deity, “with all the infinite emanations.” The god Abraxas unites the opposites, including good and evil, the one and the many. He is “symbolized as a composite creature, with the body of a human being and the head of a rooster, and with each of his legs ending in a serpent.” His name is actually a mathematical formula: in Greek, the letters add up to 365, the days of the year and the number of eons (cycles of creation).

“That a name so sacredly guarded, so potent in its influence, should be preserved by mystic societies through the many ages . . . is significant,” notes Moses W. Redding, a scholar of secret societies. Redding suggests that only in Freemasonry has this “Divine Word” been “held in due reverence.”

In Kabbalah:

As a carpenter the creator employs tools to build a home, so G'd utilized the twenty-two letters of the alef-Beit (the Hebrew alphabet) to form heaven and earth. They are the metaphorical wood, stone and nails, cornerposts and crossbeams of our earthly and spiritual existence. As in abracadabra "Αύρα κατ' αύρα" אברא כדברא, as he, she, it created the universe with; the Letter, The word, and the number.

As Kabbalist sages say G'd created the alef-beit, before the creation of the world. "The Maggid of Mezritch" explains this on the basis of the first verse in the Book of Genesis “בראשית ברא אלקים את השמים ואת הארץ—In the beginning G'd created the heavens and the earth.” Beresheet Barah Elokim Et (in the beginning God created the) The word את, (es or et) is spelled with an aleph, the first letter of the aleph-beit, and a tav, which is the last. The fact is, את, es, is generally considered to be a superfluous word. There is no literal translation for it, and its function is primarily as a grammatical device. So why is “es” present twice in the very first line of the Torah? It suggests that in the beginning, it was not the heavens and the earth that were created first. It was literally the alef-beit, aleph through to tav. The alpha and the omega, Without these letters, the very Utterances with which G'd formed the universe would have been impossible the Baal Shem Tov explains the verse, “Forever the words of G'd are hanging in the heavens.”

The crucial thing to realize is that G'd, creator, source did not merely create the world once. His Her It's words didn’t just emerge and then evaporate. Rather, G'd continues to create the world anew each and every moment. His Her It's, words are there constantly, “hanging in the heavens.” And the alef-beit is the foundation of this ongoing process of creation.

According to Kabbalah, Cabbalah and Qabbalah sages and scholars, when the same letters are transposed to form different words, they retain the common energy of their shared gematria. Because of this, the words maintain a connection in the different forms. We find a classic example of this with the words (הצר, hatzar, troubles), (רצה, ratzah, a desire to run passionately into the “ark” of spiritual study and prayer) and (צהר, tzohar, a light that shines from within). All three words share the same three letters: tzaddik, reish and hei in different combinations. The Baal Shem Tov, explains, the connection between the words as follows: When one is experiencing troubles (hatzar), and one runs to study Spiritual txts and pray with great desire (ratzah), one is illuminated with a G'dly light from within (tzohar) that helps him or her transform there troubles into blessings, as it is said that the source of the twenty-two letters is even higher than that of the Ten Commandments.

As it states: “With you, is the essence of G'd", בך means “with you.” The (Beit which has a gematria of 2) and the (kaf = 20) added together equals 22. Through the twenty-two letters of the alef-Beit, we are all connected to the monad, G'd, Allah الله, the source, and each other through our words and language as words hold power as that which makes us All unique is language as language weaves everything together. These are the teachings of our holy teacher, as the The Zohar affirms that every sentence, every phrase, every word, and even every letter of the Bible exists simultaneously on several levels of meaning. This sacred work clearly declares, “Woe unto those who see in the Law nothing but simple narratives and ordinary words! . . . Every word of the Law contains an elevated sense and a sublime mystery.”

[Except from Path of the Sun Keepers by Paul Francis Young]

“Words have a magical power. They can bring either the greatest happiness or deepest despair; they can transfer knowledge from teacher to student; words enable the orator to sway his audience and dictate its decisions. Words are capable of arousing the strongest emotions and prompting all men's actions.” --Sigmund Freud

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staryingx · 1 year ago

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Piecing together: The current timeline in Reverse 1999

CN SPOILERS up to Chapter 5 and Interlude. Long post.

The new Chapter 5 and Interlude for Reverse 1999 has shed some light on the Storm and its timeline. With all the new info, I've tried to piece it together as accurately as possible. Here's the timeline I have put together:

Let me break down my findings.

First of all, let's look at the IDM Computer with 37's Mother's prediction.

37 mentions "From 1999 to 2007, the emanation has taken place seven times". Here's how I interpret what the years mean in the Phenomenal column. It's like calling the effect of the Storm: for the first row, the 1996 Storm reverses the era 1999 to 1996. So the "1996 Storm".

The IDM only shows 6 Storms, so the 7th is the Storm that reversed to 1929. I wonder why she didn't include the 8th Storm (1929->1913), but that could be because it was the anomaly 2-day emanation that ruined the model prediction.

Here's a table I have made attempting to fill in the blanks of the IDM computer.

Let's analyze it Storm by Storm.

The 1st Storm (1999 -> 1996)

When: 23:59. December 31, 1999

Reverses to: 1996

Many sources for this, from the IDM showing 1996 to Greta, the writer of the letters in the interlude, mentioning it in her letters.

The 2nd Storm (1996 -> 1985) [Original: 2000]

When: 1996-1997.

Logs don't explicitly say when, but from the IDM we know it takes place ~1 year after the first Storm.

Reverses to: 1985.

We know this from Greta.

"Things remained unclear until time was reversed again. This time, we all witnessed that rain in the 80s. That was 1985."

She was safe in the Headquarters, witnessing the Storm reverse.

The 3rd Storm (1987 -> 1976) [Original: 2003]

When: On a 27th evening, 1987.

Greta: "The Storm in 1987 was predicted. "…but the prediction was not accomplished by LAPLACE. The captive from Manus Vindictae names the precise date of that Storm."

In Chapter 3, we learn the Foundation captured a Manus Vindictae member who gave them the date of the next Storm. Greta also mentions a captive from Manus predicted it.

Thus, this is the Storm that took place in the breakaway incident, where Vertin was 12-years old and witnessed the Storm for the first time.

Reverses to: 1976

Greta: "Finally, I made up my mind to write to [37's mother]... ... ... She died. On the same day, the first and only timekeeper who just took office, the 12-year-old child returned alone from the Storm. She told us the time in the outside world at that point." "...The last two digits in the number of the year after that Storm were exactly her name and her number: 77".

This was a bit hard to understand. I concluded the year it reversed to was 1976, as Greta said "the year after the Storm" was 77.

Original Year: 2003

Two years has passed from the 2nd Storm (1985) as this Storm took place in 1987. This fits with the year 2003 in the IDM computer. Also, when Sophia talks to Sonetto at the geometry graveyard:

Sophia: "Four years ago, my father was restored to a geometric body on his way back to the island. So was 37's mother who was also on that ship".

We know (or can at least assume) 77 is 37's mother who perished in this Storm. The current time is 2007, so four years ago is 2003.

The 4th Storm (~1976 -> 1930s) [Original: 2004]

When: 1976~1977/78

Reverses to: Some year in the 1930s

Original year: 2004

37: "In the initial four years, the emanation [Storm] has a pattern. First it brought us back to the 90s, then the 80s, and then the 70s. After that it suddenly leapt to the 30s."

When is the initial 4 years? 1999-2003, and this fits with our current pattern thus far from 90s -> 80s -> 70s. So the 4th Storm takes us to the 30s.

Sophia: "We miscalculated the impact area of the emanation. We thought the ships would be safe in the [...] current."

This confirms the Storm has a limited area it affects, where places hit by the Storm reverses to that particular year. The timeline of R1999 isn't going backwards linearly. This opens a lot of possibilities and eras we could visit.

The 5th Storm (~1930s-> 1912s) [Original: 2006]

When: Sometime in the 1930s

Reverses to: 1912

Original: 2006

37: ".... After that it suddenly leapt to the 30s. In the subsequent 3 years, [the emanation] took place twice."

When are the three years? The Storm that took us to the 30s was 2004. So the subsequent 3 years 37 refers to are: 2005, 2006, 2007.

The IDM jumps from 2004 to 2006. You can (very vaguely) make out "1912" from the year 2006. At least I think it's 1912. So the 5th Storm takes us from the 30s to 1912.

The 6th Storm (~1912s-> 1966s) [Original: 2007]

Here's where it gets interesting, and where I start to theorize things because there isn't much info yet about this Storm.

When: Theorized: 1912~1914

Reverses to: 1966

Original year: 2007

In 2007, there is a 6th Storm. This is likely the Storm before the beginning of R1999, which takes us to 1966 where Vertin meets Regulus.

Here's why I think this Storm fits with the IDM model and happens in 1912~1914, more possibly 1914.

In Chapter 1, Vertin lists down people she has met to Regulus.

Regulus: "Huh? It's Lewis. I know him!" Vertin: "Yes. I took this photo several days ago. He was selling the Hoover Upright Vacuum Cleaners in the West End, and thought photos would help his business, so he gladly took this." Regulus: "Why did you take a photo of him? How's he..."

Vertin's response is to take a deep breath.

This interaction was very interesting. Why is Regulus so surprised Vertin took a picture of Lewis? "How's he..." How's he what? Alive?

Now I'm not very familiar with historical figures named Lewis, so I could be very (and hilariously) wrong, but after researching who could be related to a business involving Hoover Upright Vacuum Cleaners, I speculate Lewis is John Spedan Lewis. His father, John Lewis, founded John Lewis, a British brand of high-end department stores.

In 1914, John Lewis hands Spedan Lewis control of a store named Peter Jones. Where is Peter Jones located? Sloane Square, London, which is in King's Road.

Vertin: "Yes. I took this photo several days ago."

This fits with the London location and timeline we know so far. So a few days before Vertin met Regulus, she was in an area of 1914s where she met Spedan Lewis trying to get his store [Peter Jones] going.

Judging from her reaction, he got reversed by the Storm that took them to 1966. Spedan Lewis died in 1963, which is why Regulus is confused why Vertin has a picture of him taken several days ago, and why a wealthy Founder of high-end luxury stores needs a photo taken to help his business.

I thought this was a nice clue that Vertin was in ~1912s era before the 1966s, though this is all just speculation. Feel free to add your own theories who Lewis could be.

The 7th Storm (~1966s-> 1929s) [Original: 2007]

When: June 3rd, 1966.

Reverses to: February 14th, 1929.

Takes place in Chapter 0, where Vertin and Sonetto meets Regulus.

The 8th Storm (~1929s-> 1913s) [Original: 2007]

When: February 15th, 1929.

Reverses to: 1913

Takes place in Chapter 2, where Vertin meets Schneider, Druvis, and Sotheby. Manus Vindictae escalates the Great Depression to cause an earlier Storm. This era only lasts for two days.

These two Storms are straightforward since we witnessed them in game. I won't go into details about them. We're still in the year 2007 according to 37.

The Current Year in Ch 5: 1914 [2007]

Chapter 4 takes place from August 26th to October 10th 1913. The new Chapter 5 begins in 1914.

Eight storms have taken place thus far. Here's a summary with the timeline for reference:

1st Storm (1999 -> 1996)

2nd Storm (1996 -> 1985) [Original: 2000]

3rd Storm (1987 -> 1976) [Original: 2003]

4th Storm (~1976 -> 1930s) [Original: 2004]

5th Storm (~1930s -> 1912s) [Original: 2006]

6th Storm (~1912s -> 1966s) [Original: 2007]

7th Storm (~1966s -> 1929s) [Original: 2007]

8th Storm (~1929s -> 1913s) [Original: 2007]

The Current Year in Chapter 5: 1914 [2007]

Random thoughts:

I hope this post helped paint a clearer picture of the Storms and the possible timeline! Cause, whew, the reason I made this whole timeline was to make sense of it myself. So much lore was dropped in the new chapter.

A question that remains unanswered:

How do people predict the Storm? How can they tell the time in the outside world?

Moissan: "Since Timekeeper hasn't reported the time of this era to the Foundation, you two, as the Foundation investigators, shouldn't know what year this is."

We know 37's group predict them through patterns and math, but what about the Manus Vindictae and Vertin? Vertin just seems to... innately know through her pocket watch and Storm countdown timer on her bracer, perhaps related to her great sense of arcanum. I'm really curious about that.

Biggest Takeaways:

The Storm isn't going backwards linearly and it has a limited impact area. So that means some places not hit by the Storm remains untouched, while others get reversed to whatever era the Storm brings. The first Storm probably had the widest impact.

This means an era in the 1912, for example, could be "reversed" to 1966 if it was hit by the 1966 Storm. That's what I'm getting from all of this. Anyone in the Storm impact area just... poofs, and arcanists/humans in that time era spontaneously appear with the buildings and such. I really love this idea-story wise we could jump around eras.

Then we have places that are completely immune like the Headquarters, Suitcase, and 37's island. They are the only ones who can consistently keep track of time as they're unaffected like spectators viewing the outside world. For the Foundation, Vertin is their way of tracking time in eras: what era did a Storm reverse a place to.

Again, some of these are just speculations and my theories. If you noticed any information I missed out or a mistake, feel free to let me know whether through tags, reply, or even my asks if you're shy. Or if you would just like to talk theories or about Reverse 1999 I'm more than happy to :>

#reverse 1999 #r1999 #timeline analysis #reverse1999 #cn spoilers

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archivist-crow · 3 months ago

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On this day: BETTY AND BARNEY HILL On September 19, 1961, Betty and Barney Hill were driving on an isolated New Hampshire road around midnight when they noticed a light moving erratically through the sky. Seven hours later they were home. The trip normally took less than five hours. At first they had no memory of the lost time, but then alien nightmares began to haunt their sleep and unexplained marks began to appear on their bodies. Eventually they sought the help of a noted Boston psychiatrist to regain their memory of the missing time. Returning home from Canada on U.S. Route 3, they reached the White Mountains, and the light appeared to be running parallel to the car. Abruptly, it appeared directly in their path. Barney got out of the car to look at it through binoculars. He saw a row of windows with figures moving around behind them. Suddenly overcome with a fear of capture, Barney dashed back into the car and sped away. Curious vibrating noises followed the car, and Barney and Betty felt very sleepy. Later, they became conscious thirty-five miles south of where they last remembered being, and their watches had stopped. Anxiety over the lost two hours began to rule their lives. What unfolded, under hypnosis, was a sensational account of alien abduction and medical examination. A group of uniformed men surrounded the Hills, taking them from their car and to a saucer-shaped craft. Samples of the Hills' hair, fingernails, and skin were taken. The leader assured the Hills of their safety. And when Betty asked where they were from, he led her to a "star map." Later, under post-hypnotic suggestion, she drew the map, which appeared meaningless at the time. Several years later new astronomical information revealed a star cluster, near Zeta Reticuli, which rendered Betty's map amazingly accurate. Text from: Almanac of the Infamous, the Incredible, and the Ignored by Juanita Rose Violins, published by Weiser Books, 2009

#on this day #september #betty and barney hill #aliens and ufos #uap #alien abduction

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solstices-dreams · 25 days ago

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— 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐬.

#𓅓 - 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬.

This is focused on book accurate character looks and characterization. This was a dr I had before the show came out and it’s another dr that focuses more on healing my inner child. I always wanted to meet Percy and Annabeth and go on the fun adventures with the 7. So I made it a dr :)

This book also brings in people from the different series, I can meet Sadie, Walt, Carter, Alex, and Magnus, people who aren’t present in the show, including all of Camp Jupiter. My friend group is the seven and Nico, whereas in my pjo dr it’s the camp counselors group

In this dr I don’t have a scripted s/o but I feel like it’ll probably be poly percabeth or any mix from the seven. (definitely annabeth) I also am apart of the prophecy and get to be on the Argo, following a timeline in the heroes of Olympus series rather than the first one.

#⚚ - 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧.

This dr is completely show based off the show’s character looks. The personalities of some of the characters will also be mixed more with their actors, mostly the main trio. It’s set in camp half blood only, without camp Jupiter existing and I’m reworking the canon of the 1st series to make it more fun but also with a little bit of plot. (And scripting out obvious deaths and Luke turning.)

I will rework some ages of people and let it be more of a summer camp experience with a few quests, with obvious safety scripted in. Also, a lot of the people from the 1st series will be there, specifically Lee Fletcher (my bestie !!) castor, Pollux, silena, and beckendorf. In my heroes of Olympus dr I won’t get the chance to be with them so I want to in this one. My s/o is Luke :))). I love his actor so much and I was excited when they cast him!! So ofc he’s my baby <3. He’s genuinely so important to me.

Also, if I’m doing the prophecy and all this other stuff I won’t get to experience camp halfblood as much. I want to do capture the flag, chariot racing, all this stuff the little fun stuff I’ll be to busy to do in HoO, which is my reason for the two drs.

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dixons-sunshine · 1 month ago

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The Boyfriend Assessment | Quarters Of The Undead AU

Summary: Meeting your best friend’s boyfriend for the first time was never easy. In Georgianna’s case, meeting Vec’s boyfriend felt like a life or death situation—until it didn’t.

Warnings: I can’t think of anything.

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: First official fic for this AU on my part! Aahhhh I’m so excited! I hope I captured Vec accurately, @thevegandarkelf. If not, I’d be more than happy to change a few things. Also, I know there’s no Daryl in this, but I wanted to get a head start on Georgie and Scud’s sibling rivalry. My next fic should probably include Daryl!

“How do I look?”

At the sound of her voice, Georgianna looked up from the tests she was busy grading and up at Lydia Rae Vector—or, well, Dia for her personally due to best friend reasons, and Vec for others—her roommate and absolute bestest friend in the whole world. The woman in question stood in front of Georgianna, sporting a casual yet outgoing look, all in an attempt to impress the guy that worked at the auto repair shop near Atlanta General, the same guy that was coming over for dinner so that Georgianna could finally meet the man that held her best friend’s heart as of late. The cutie with the bandana, as she had come to know him as from their extensive talks about the man.

Georgianna clicked her red pen closed and leaned back on the couch. She hummed and scanned Vec’s attire, a faux look of contemplation on her face. It was all for show, really. Vec was one of the most fashionable people she knew. If one were to give her a trash bag, she would find a way to style it. But Georgianna knew that Vec loved her reassurance nonetheless, so she always made sure to let her best friend know her honest thoughts.

“You look great, Dia,” Georgianna spoke up after a few beats of silence, her tone laced with honesty and sincerity. “Now calm down and take a few deep breaths, okay?”

Vec took her advice and followed the breathing patterns Georgianna was demonstrating. Once she was certain she was not going to freak out, Vec sighed. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Georgianna stood up from the couch and made her way over to Vec, closely inspecting her rather nervous stature, something that was rather uncommon for the usually confident, straightforward woman. “What’s up, babe? What’s got you so worried? I’m the one that should be nervous.”

“I don’t even really know,” Vec admitted with a small groan. “I mean, when it’s just me and him, everything is so natural. He matches my freak, y’know? And obviously, when it’s just you and me, we can talk about anything and nothing all at once. But—”

“You’re nervous about how we’ll feel about each other,” Georgianna finished for her, instantly understanding where her worry was coming from.

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Dia, you don’t have to worry about what we think of each other, okay? Even if we end up despising each other, I won’t let it affect you. I’ll learn to tolerate him. But I’m sure that won’t even be necessary. I’m sure I’m gonna love him. Well, not like that, of course. He’s your man. I would never betray your trust like that. I—”

“I get what you meant,” Vec interrupted her with a light laugh, knowing well that if she did not, Georgianna would go on a rant in an attempt to explain something she did not have to in the first place. Georgianna had a tendency to overthink, and Vec was the anchor that helped her in those types of situations.

Georgianna sighed and shrugged. “Besides, if this guy—”

“Josh.”

“—Josh is as great as you say he is, then I’m sure we’re gonna get along great.” When Vec nodded, Georgianna continued. “Now calm down, okay? Tonight’s gonna go just fine.”

“You’re right,” Vec agreed. “It will be fine.”

The doorbell to the two women’s shared apartment rung, making them both look over at it. Georgianna frowned and looked up at the clock on the wall, before looking back at her best friend. “It’s only five thirty. I thought he was gonna be here at seven.”

Vec shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, I told him to be here any time after five if he wanted. I didn’t think he was actually gonna be so early.” Her earlier nerves being replaced with an idea she deemed positively brilliant, Vec smiled. “It gives the two of you the time to get to know each other while I make dinner!”

“You’re kidding,” Georgianna exclaimed in a hushed whisper. “Dia, you can’t leave me alone with him! The living room is a mess! And you know what—”

“What a flibbertigibbet you can be when you’re nervous. Yes, I know, but I also know that he wouldn’t mind that.” Vec gripped Georgianna’s shoulder in—what she hoped was—reassurance. “Believe me, he doesn’t mind messes at all. And besides, I seriously doubt five test papers can qualify as a mess. You’ll be fine, Ginny. I promise. Think of this as a parent-teacher conference.”

Georgianna hesitantly nodded. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

“Perfect, because you don’t really have a choice.”

Before Georgianna could say anything, Vec backed away from the woman and stalked towards the door. She opened the wooden barrier between her and her boyfriend, and smiled brightly at the man on the other end. Georgianna forced herself to relax, trying to remind herself that this was not a big deal. She loved meeting new people. She strived for social interactions. She was a complete social butterfly. She could do this.

“Josh, hey!” Vec greeted the man enthusiastically.

If it was not for the fact that she had seen it with her own eyes, Georgianna would never have thought she was nervous at all. Vec truly was a master at changing her emotions in a matter of seconds. Georgianna often joked that her best friend should have gone into the acting business instead of surgery due to that little fact alone.

“Heya, Vee.”

Vec leaned forward and gave the man a quick peck on the lips, before beckoning him inside. “C’mon, you gotta meet Georgie.”

Got to was a bit of an overstatement, Georgianna thought to herself. However, she forced herself to calm down and plastered a smile onto her face. This meeting meant a lot to Vec, and by god, Georgianna was going to ensure that it went as smoothly as humanly possible.

The moment Georgianna’s eyes landed on the man she had heard so much about, the woman had to resist the urge to comment on his choice of clothing. He wore a shirt that had some science joke on it, with a pair of jeans that had definitely seen better days, a big puffer jacket and a pair of sneakers that had a bunch of small doodles on the side. He even wore a bandana, but from the various conversations she had with Vec regarding the cutie with the bandana, Georgianna had expected that last part.

The couple walked into the living room and came to a stop a few feet away from Georgianna. She exchanged a look with Vec, before turning back to the man—Josh—and extended her hand.

“Hi. I’m Georgianna,” she greeted in a tone of voice that closely resembled the one she used when greeting the parents of the kids she taught. “Georgianna Marianne Hawkins.” She had no idea why she had felt the need to give her full government name, but there was no going back now.

The man smiled and gripped her hand in his and shook it once. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He removed his hand from hers and motioned towards himself. “I’m Joshua Frohmeyer, but you can call me Scud. Just about everybody does.”

Georgianna nodded and looked at Scud with a scrutinising gaze. It got quiet for a few moments, before Scud chuckled awkwardly and cleared his throat. “Okay, then. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall, first door to the right,” Vec explained, smiling at him as he kissed her on the cheek and disappeared down the hall. When she heard the door close, she turned back to Georgianna. “What was that about?”

“What do you mean?” Georgianna inquired with a confused frown.

“You know, that look you gave him. Like you’re a dad trying to figure out his intentions with your daughter.”

“You trying to insinuate you see me as your mom?” When Vec simply sent her a pointed look, Georgianna laughed and shook her head. “Okay, okay. I just… I guess I just don’t really understand something.”

That got Vec’s attention. “What do you mean?”

“You kept going on about the cutie with the bandana, and I just don’t get it. I mean, I can clearly see that he’s wearing a bandana, but I’m struggling to see how the word ‘cutie’ comes into play here.”

The clearing of someone’s throat slightly startled both Vec and Georgianna. Whipping around, she came face-to-face with none other than the man she had been talking about a few moments prior. Georgianna would have felt embarrassed, but for some reason unbeknownst to her, she did not.

Scud went and stood next to Vec once more, his blue eyes studying Georgianna’s face intently. “Well, then it’s a good thing it’s only her opinion that matters.” For added emphasis, he motioned towards Vec.

Georgianna crossed her arms over her chest and met Scud’s gaze head-on. She did not know where this sudden surge of confidence came from, but there was just something about the man in front of her that made her feel weirdly at ease, like she could speak her mind without having to fear looking like an absolute fool. She could not explain the odd feeling.

“Well,” she began matter-of-factly, “considering the fact that Vec came to me for the initial “yes or nah” evaluation of you, I personally think that my opinion holds a ton of value.”

Scud simply stared at her with a deadpan look. “Not in this case, it doesn’t. In fact, any opinions ya have of me will be taken with a grain of salt.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, I think—”

“Okay!” Vec interrupted. Maybe leaving them alone to talk wouldn’t be such a brilliant idea after all, Vec thought to herself. In an attempt to ease what she thought was an uncomfortable tension, she turned to Scud. “How about you help me in the kitchen while Georgie finishes up with her work?”

Scud shrugged and nodded. “Sounds good to me.” He turned to Georgianna with a smirk on his face. “That okay with you, Marianne? Considering your opinion holds so much value?”

Georgianna rolled her eyes at his comment, and the unnecessary emphasis of her middle name. She knew exactly why he did that. Vec must have told him how much she hated being addressed by her middle name. It was the perfect way to take a jab at her without outright insulting her.

“Yes, it’s completely fine with me, Joshua. Just don’t burn my kitchen down while you’re at it,” Georgianna replied, emphasizing his name as well and smirking slightly at the way he cringed at that. Vec had told Georgianna how much Scud hated being addressed by his full first name, so now that once unimportant piece of information had turned way more vital for the Hawkins woman.

“Guys,” Vec chimed in, her eyes darting between her best friend and her boyfriend, “please don’t.”

Georgianna and Vec shared a look, before the former moved over towards the couch and sat back down in front of the test that had laid momentarily forgotten. “Whatever you make, remember—”

“No onions or tomatoes. Yes, I know.”

With that, Vec ushered Scud into the kitchen, leaving Georgianna alone in the living room. With one last look towards where the couple had stood only moments prior, she picked up her pen and resumed with her task of grading the paper, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Yeah, Georgianna had a feeling that her and Scud were going to get along just fine.

“Thanks for coming over, Josh.”

“Of course. This was great.” Scud leaned down and pressed a soft, tender peck to Vec’s lips. He shrugged his jacket on and sent Vec a charming, heartfelt smile.

Georgianna—who stood off to the side—simply observed the couple with a small, fond smile on her face. The two truly did make a terrific pair. They complimented each other’s personalities beautifully. All throughout dinner, Georgianna had noticed how Scud’s eyes barely strayed away from her best friend, even when Vec was not looking. They were perfect for one another, and Georgianna was beyond happy that her best friend had finally found the person that was meant for her.

Georgianna liked Scud. She could see that he was a great guy. Despite only officially knowing him for a few hours, Georgianna felt like she had known him her whole life. Her usual very slight awkwardness when meeting new people failed to make an appearance with Scud, and that little fact spoke volumes. All throughout dinner, Scud and Georgianna made jokes and took playful jabs at one another, like they were siblings just catching up at a family dinner instead of being complete strangers to the other.

Scud’s eyes shifted over to Georgianna, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Good night, Marianne.”

“Night, Joshua,” Georgianna greeted with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

With one last kiss to Vec’s cheek, Scud disappeared out of the front door. Closing the door behind her, Vec locked it, made her way over to the couch and collapsed onto it. With a heavy sigh, she looked up at Georgianna, her blue eyes sparkling in the dim light of the living room.

“So,” she began, her eyes following Georgianna as the aforementioned woman went about tidying up the living room, “I have a feeling that you don’t particularly like him.”

“Who, Scud?” Georgianna asked rhetorically, though she still received a nod from Vec. “Oh, no, he’s great. I like him. I can totally see why you fell for him. He’s not my type, but he’s yours and I can see myself becoming great friends with him.”

That confused Vec. Her eyebrows furrowed behind her glasses as she gazed up at the brown-haired woman. “I—what? Huh?”

“What’s wrong?” Georgianna inquired, completely taken aback by her friend’s strange behaviour. “You sound like you’re having a stroke.”

“The two of you didn’t stop taking jabs at each other all night!” Vec exclaimed, her tone evidently laced with confusion. “It sounded like you hated him.”

“I don’t hate him. He’s actually really cool, and I could tell that he didn’t mean what he was saying. You know I’m good at reading people, Dia. He’s a good guy and he clearly makes you happy.” Georgianna sat down on the armchair, a sigh leaving her chest. “Besides, his “insults” were kinda weak. I’ve had way worse things said to me before.”

Vec smiled at her. “So he has your stamp of approval?”

Georgianna nodded. “He does.”

“Then it definitely makes me feel better about giving him your number.”

“You gave him my number?” Georgianna asked, although she was just curious, not angry. “Why?”

“I gave it to him a while ago,” Vec replied with a shrug. “It was just in case there happened to be an emergency and I couldn’t call you with my phone. I completely forgot to tell you that I did. I’m sorry.”

Georgianna nodded slowly. “Okay, yeah. That makes sense. And it’s fine.” Vec was just about to say something else, but a yawn cut her off, making Georgianna chuckle. “Go to bed, Dia. I’ll clean up.”

“You sure?” When Georgianna nodded, Vec got up from the couch. “You’re the best, Ginny. I love you.”

“Love you too, Dia. Now go to bed. You have an early shift tomorrow.”

Vec nodded, and with that, she disappeared down the hall and into her bedroom. A few seconds after the door was shut, Georgianna’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She took her phone out, opened it and read the text that had come through.

Unknown: hiya, Marianne. It’s Scud. Thought I’d shoot ya a text to thank you for having me over. It was fun.

Unknown: By the way, I hope you didn’t take my “insults” to heart. I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just playful banter.

Georgianna shook her head at the texts. She quickly saved the number to her phone, before replying to him.

Georgie: Don’t worry, I know. Same here. I didn’t mean anything by it.

Joshua: Good to know.

Joshua: Anyways, I gotta go. Nightly call with my bae. She’s way better company than you. Sorry about that.

The moment Georgianna read that text, she heard the muffled sound of Vec’s ringtone, before it got silenced by the enthusiastic “hey, babe! You home yet?” from the aforementioned woman. Georgianna smiled at the clear-as-day happiness her best friend exuded. She put her phone down on the table and made her way to the kitchen, humming to herself as she went about cleaning up the mess.

Scud made Vec beyond happy, and that was enough for Georgianna to decide that her and Scud would get along just fine.

Georgie belongs to me.

Vec belongs to @thevegandarkelf.

Comment/DM/inbox me to be added to the taglist for this AU!

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#quarters of the undead au #quarters of the undead #quartersoftheundeadau #quartersoftheundead #scud x vec #vec x scud #vec and georgie

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lamemaster · 20 days ago

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Kidnap Fam Gets Kidnapped

Request: @asianbutnotjapanese Listen LISTEN!! Maedhros is my favorite Alright But this is so unsettling, disturbing and the anxiety?😨 At first I was like okay it's fine ZombieMae but then I was like?????! Oh God I don't know if I love it and bury it down and forget about it.

Genre: Zombie au

Pairing: Maedhros x gn Reader

Summary: Stories told of the first of the ships arriving from Aman, its golden flags shimmering in the sunlight. Soaked in the ichor of the Valar. That was how it began, the first corruption. The last of the great eagles had spoken of it, their golden blood staining the shores of Aman.

AN: First of all sorry for how long this took. Second- this isn't the traditional zombie au but it's got the spirit. I hope you like it! I did not intend for it to be this goofy but boy do I like crack fic humor lol (somehow zombie Maedhros is pookie-coded)

The coying scent of a decaying bog filled your nose, followed by the sharp tang of monsoon pine. The contrasting smells teased at your senses, threatening to overwhelm you with a migraine.

Forests were like this, deceitful and alive with memories. They still clung to the Firstborn, their cherished ones who once walked beneath their shadows.

But this was no longer their sanctuary.

Cloaked in the dark of night, you crept through what had once been elven lands. That was before the plague. Before the disease hollowed out the dwindling numbers of the Firstborn who remained in Middle-earth.

Men, it seemed, were untouched by the plague.

The elders whispered that it had been the work of Mandos himself, the God of Death, corrupted by the relentless passage of time. Once the Prophet of Doom, Mandos had become doom itself, plunging Arda into darkness again.

Stories told of the first of the ships arriving from Aman, its golden flags shimmering in the sunlight. Soaked in the ichor of the Valar. That was how it began, the first corruption. The last of the great eagles had spoken of it, their golden blood staining the shores of Aman.

Now the Firstborn had returned to these lands, but they were no longer the elves who had sung to the stars. Their vacant eyes hid the will of Mandos.

You crouched low behind a bush, wary of the trees shuffling suspiciously nearby. Away from sight, you pulled out your map. Rivendell had to be close.

Elrond’s map was your only guide, the closest thing to an accurate depiction of the region.

The faint rustle of the Bruinen confirmed it. You had come closer than anyone had dared before.

The mission was supposed to be simple, or so you kept telling yourself.

Kidnap the minstrel son of Fëanor, the one luring the Avari into Mandos’ lair.

It sounded straightforward enough.

You groaned, forcing down your doubts with the liquid courage in your flask.

While the plague could not touch men, its victims had no such boundaries. Villages had been raided. Children and cattle taken, along with women. Only cold, lifeless carcasses were left behind.

The plague had changed everything.

Elves who once wept for felled trees had turned cannibal, their cruelty surpassing even the orcs, creatures that had once been twisted forms of their kind.

The most terrifying among them were the Feanorians.

Bound by their unbreakable oath, they were Mandos’ fiercest servants.

Many had tried to kill the Seven Doomsmen. Fire, swords, poison, even sorcery had failed. Death was Mandos’ domain, and death could not stop the plague.

The only solution had been imprisonment. The weaker ones had been chained, bound with the hymns of Varda to soothe their rage. But these methods failed against the sons of Feanor.

None of them had ever been captured.

Until tonight.

From your pouch, you pulled out the lock of Elrond’s raven-black hair, placing it in the clearing.

If anything could stir Maglor Fëanorian’s conscience, it was his adopted son, or so Elrond had hoped.

The scent was sure to draw him in. All you had to do was wait, acid ready in hand. A splash to his eyes would cripple him long enough to bind and gag him. After that, you would run to the nearest town, where your party awaited.

That had been the plan.

But the elf you picked up felt far larger than what Elrond had described.

No. This one was missing a hand.

A curtain of red hair brushed against your face, and the realization hit you. This wasn’t Maglor. This was someone worse. Maedhros.

Nelyafinwë.

There was no time to hesitate. Hauling the wrong elf onto your spooked mare, Leia, you whispered a promise to treat her later.

Maedhros, draped awkwardly in a cloak, groaned and ripped at Leia’s mane in his pain. The mare, impatient with his antics, snapped at him hard enough to draw a yelp.

“Good girl,” you muttered, gripping the reins tightly as Leia trotted through the night, her breaths sharp and uneven.

Elrond was going to kill you.

Of course, that was assuming the mountain of an elf in front of you didn’t do it first.

For now, Maedhros seemed more preoccupied with rubbing at his damaged eyes. The acid would leave him blinded for a week. A week of pain for him, and perhaps a moment of peace for you.

With his suffering eyes hidden behind a blindfold, Maedhros was still the very picture of elven beauty. The plague had failed to strip the Firstborn of their otherworldly grace. If anything, Mandos had enhanced it.

Elves were what men could never resist. With their predator’s allure cloaked in perfection, they were a trap for the Secondborn, captivated by flawless features and haunting charm.

Sitting across from Maedhros, you tried your best to feed him lembas, the closest thing to calming his mind. Yet the stupid elf kept going for your fingers, snapping like a feral creature.

Leia, your ever-patient mare, turned out to be a better disciplinarian than you. With one sharp, annoyed snort, Maedhros froze. After a reluctant pause, he finally opened his mouth, accepting the morsel of lembas.

“I know this is no substitute for Vala blood,” you muttered, guiding another piece toward him, “but trust me, you’ll want to be sober to meet Elrond.” He chewed, his movements finally more controlled.

“ You lot have traumatized him enough already. He needs a parent,” you said, your words tumbling out in a nervous ramble. “Maglor would have been better, but I think you’ll do. Maybe. Hopefully.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t kill both of us. You know what I mean?”

The question hung in the air, rhetorical. Or so you thought.

Maedhros answered it with a sickening pop of his shoulder, the sound sending a shudder racing down your spine.

Bound and subdued, Maedhros listens to the voices curling through his mind. They come in layers. His lord’s commanding presence, intertwined with the ghostly, persuasive echo of his father’s voice.

He remains pliant under your hold, his every movement deliberate, his compliance masking the storm within. The whispers weave themselves into him, insidious and unrelenting.

“Do not run, my son,” Feanor’s voice purrs, brimming with a chilling mix of affection and command. “Find their weakness, my dearest Nelyo. Uncover the fault lines of Arda’s last hold for our lord.”

This is the way. Maedhros will obey. He will do whatever is required to restore his father’s glory. Feanor, alive again, is no longer a memory but a shadow of the brilliance he once was. This existence, this chance, is a mercy granted by Mandos.

And for that mercy, Maedhros will give everything.

“Follow the mortal,” Mandos commands, his voice cutting through the whispers like a blade. Maedhros freezes mid-step, his sudden stillness sharp enough to make you glance back warily.

“You will be our mole,” Mandos continues, his tone crackling with malice. “The doom of men is near.”

The whispers grow louder, swelling until they drown out Maedhros’ thoughts completely. They dull his mind, sinking it into the numb, blissful haze of his lord’s power. This borrowed peace, stolen from the dominion of his brother, blankets his every sense. It is comforting, suffocating, and absolute.

“Bring us the fall of the Peredhel, Maedhros. Do it.”

The words burrow into him, deep and unshakable, sealing his purpose.

And so, he follows you.

In the fractured world cloaked in darkness, hidden within the fortress of doom, Mandos had unearthed the means to ensnare the Secondborn. The boon of death lay cradled in his palm, a gift as cruel as it was powerful.

The final mystery of Arda rested within his grasp, and the Children of Eru were now his. His to own. His to toy with as puppets. Mandos was no longer merely the keeper of souls; he had become the master of Arda itself.

Yet, as with every tale that shaped the fate of Arda, this one came with the most unlikely of heroes: a broken elf haunted by whispers of the past, a weary mortal clinging to the last threads of hope, and a horse whose temper could rival Tulkas himself.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion #tolkien elves #maedhros x reader #zombie au #canon divergence #hehe #fall event #idk how to tag this people #🍂🍂🍂

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a-big-apple · 11 months ago

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Gideon, Harrow, and "Wedding Vows"

i frequently see the interpretation that this:

"The land that shall receive thee dying, in the same will I die: and there will I be buried. The Lord do so and so to me, and add more also, if aught but death part me and thee," said Gideon. (GtN 438)

plus this:

"If I forget you, let my right hand be forgotten," her mouth was saying. "Add more also, if aught but death part me and thee." And, unsteadily: "Griddle." (HtN 360)

plus this:

It didn't even matter when Kiriona said, "Sure, Cam. Marry a moron, then die. I get the urge." (NtN 372)

equals Gideon and Harrow are married! crying face emoji!

i'm not disparaging that interpretation, i think it's valid and has some basis in the text, and even if it wasn't/didn't, i think fans should have all the fun they want. but for me, it doesn't fully capture the complexity of what Gideon and Harrow are to each other, and i want to explore a slightly less straightforward reading.

Catholic weddings, vows, and Ruth under the cut ;)

Gideon and Ninth House traditions

let's start with Gideon quoting Ruth. i've seen folks repeating the idea that this is a wedding vow. it's more accurate to say that this is a verse often used as a wedding vow, in other denominations of Christianity, and secularly as well. but in a (traditional) Catholic wedding, the couple can't write or choose their own vows--the Celebration of Matrimony has specific text, with one or two variations, that is always used.

now, we haven't seen a Ninth House marriage ceremony. if we do see such a thing in AtN and discover that Ruth 1:17 is part of that tradition, i will cry a million happy queer tears about it. but i think it's somewhat likely that Gideon has never even seen a Ninth House wedding, given how small and trending elderly the population is, and that we know no couples in her lifetime have had kids other than the Reverend Parents.

what i'm getting at here is that this quotation from Ruth doesn't seem, to me, to represent something that's religiously or traditionally binding in Ninth House culture. it uses some similar language to Catholic marriage vows, "until death do us part" etc, but i don't think these are words that make them married in the eyes of the Ninth or the Houses at large, i think these are words Gideon has chosen as a specific expression of her devotion. and where does she get them from, if not some Ninth House ceremony or scripture?

well, this is a slightly longer stretch, but at the point in the story when Gideon says this, she's already dead. Harrow has begun to absorb her--and thanks to "The Unwanted Guest," we know that souls are porous, permeable, and rub off on each other when they're in contact. Gideon's soul is at this moment being integrated into Harrow's; Harrow has certainly read all kinds of books on the Ninth ranging from usual to totally heretical, some of them probably extremely old, and it's not unreasonable to think writings from before the Resurrection might have been copied and recopied into something Harrow could access. And speaking of soul permeability, Harrow's had Alecto's soul clinging onto hers for seven years, and Alecto's soul is in intimate contact with John's soul--there are so many ways for this bit of scripture to make its way into Gideon's non-corporeal mouth. the STI (Soulfully Transmitted Infection) of biblical knowledge.

Ruth in context

now let's talk a little about Ruth, the book of the Bible and also the character of the Bible, and Naomi, who she is swearing her devotion to. tl;dr, Naomi and her husband and two grown sons are Israelites who immigrate to Moab, a "pagan" nation, to escape famine. Naomi's two sons marry Moabite women; then the sons both die, as does Naomi's husband. Naomi, having lost everything, decides to return home where she'll be penniless and have a bad life but at least she'll be among her people; she tells her two daughters-in-law to go back to their families. One of them goes.

The other, Ruth, refuses, and swears beautiful devotion to Naomi, as we've heard Gideon quote: "She answered: Be not against me, to desire that I should leave thee and depart: for whithersoever thou shalt go, I will go: and where thou shalt dwell, I also will dwell. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. The land that shall receive thee dying, in the same will I die: and there will I be buried. The Lord do so and so to me, and add more also, if aught but death part me and thee."

in a biblical context, this has nothing to do with a wedding vow. Ruth is promising to leave the comfort of her own people, religion, and homeland to stay with her mother-in-law Naomi, even though the connection they had (Naomi's son, Ruth's husband) is gone, and all they have to look forward to is a terrible life of grief and bitterness. this is frequently interpreted as a parallel to Jesus, who (in the religious perspective) made the sacrifice of leaving his place with God and becoming human out of devotion to humanity, in order to live and suffer and redeem us. woof, this is giving me flashbacks to CCD.

of course, many Christians resist interpreting what passes between Ruth and Naomi as resembling a wedding vow for homophobic reasons too--making it about Jesus is a way to make it less queer--but i think the point still stands that this is a more complicated, and less marriage-related, expression of love than it seems taken on its own.

Harrow's lamentation

when Harrow later echoes it back, she conflates it with a different biblical quotation: "On the willows in the midst thereof we hung up our instruments. For there they that led us into captivity required of us the words of songs. And they that carried us away, said: Sing ye to us a hymn of the songs of Sion. How shall we sing the song of the Lord in a strange land? If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand be forgotten. Let my tongue cleave to my jaws, if I do not remember thee: If I make not Jerusalem the beginning of my joy."

it's a lament, an expression of mourning, a longing for home from someone who has been forcibly removed from it. when combined with the Ruth quotation, in which Ruth is giving up her home in her devotion, this really reads to me as both Harrow's grief, immediate and overpowering, and a realization that Gideon is her home, and failing to acknowledge that is as disabling as the loss of a hand or of the power of speech. Gideon is the beginning of her joy, and Harrow is, in this moment, putting Gideon above the Ninth House in her devotion. above Alecto. above everything.

and again, i'm not saying all of that can't be about marriage, but it's about a relationship much more complicated than marriage can encompass in the context House cultural norms.

Kiriona Gaia, saddest girl

this brings me to Kiriona, and "marry a moron, then die." consider the context of this, and the tone. Kiriona's deeply, deeply hurt. the saddest girl in the universe. she died for Harrow, avowed her devotion to Harrow, and then (from her perspective) was rejected; buried; excised from Harrow's brain and then from her body. Kiriona, as she did when she was Gideon, covers her emotions with humor and sarcasm. i suspect she's even less able to handle being vulnerable as Kiriona than she ever was before. she's making light of Canaan House and what happened there, and it's only in sarcastically downplaying what she's been through that she recounts her relationship to Harrow as a marriage--something she has almost no positive examples of, something that is in her experience frequently political and joyless. also notably, she frames it as a marriage that occurred before she died.

Their actual vow

what Gideon (and Kiriona) really wants--she tells us over and over again--is to be a true cavalier.

and what does Gideon's ghost repeat right before she devastates us with Ruth 1:17?

"One flesh, one end," said Gideon, and it was a murmur now, on the very edge of hearing. Harrow said, "Don't leave me." (GtN 438)

it's taken me a dozen paragraphs just to propose that this is their vow. "One flesh, one end" are the actual words that need to be spoken, in Gideon and Harrow's cultural context, to bring them into an official union with each other; a union that is arguably more fundamental in the Houses, and certainly more complicated, than a marriage. a union Gideon specifically wants, and has seen in action.

in the pool, they vow to each other as cavalier and necromancer. in the moments before Gideon's death, she forgives Harrow again, and exposes her heart: "'You know I only care about you,' she said in a brokenhearted rush" (GtN 430). then she repeats their oath again, acknowledges the pain she's about to cause for Harrow, and rededicates herself to the Ninth--a place she never really belonged, Harrow's home and people more than her own, as Ruth dedicated herself to Naomi's home and people. Gideon "married" her moron in the pool, and now she dies to fulfill that vow.

and as we saw above, after Gideon's death, she reminds Harrow again of their union--of its importance, of how she's fulfilling what she has interpreted to be her whole purpose as a cavalier--and it's in response to Harrow's "don't leave me" that Gideon offers a final reassurance of her devotion. in her mind, this sacrifice is its ultimate expression, the most inextricable and undeniable union two people can achieve.

Gideon believes she'll be part of Harrow forever.

#the locked tomb #the locked tomb meta #i stayed up way too late last night writing this

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abyssruler · 2 years ago

Text

to dream a dream

xiao x gn reader

sometimes, all it takes to push two people together is a stroke of luck, and sometimes, leaving is as easy as taking on the abyss. perhaps you were a fool for choosing misery, but people like you were never meant for a happy ending. or, xiao meets a star-borne traveler who captures his heart and leaves it fractured for the next 500 years.

angst, not a happy ending (can be read as ambiguous ending), non-linear narrative, long fic, reader is the abyss twin (gender neutral), i wrote most of this back in sept 2021 so might not be accurate on a few lore aspects but i tried my best

Here is how it starts: a shooting star and a lone Yaksha.

Perched atop one of the many mountain peaks in Jueyun Karst, Xiao watches the afternoon sky be split by a streak of gold.

A shooting star.

It’s only when it begins to descend that the lone Yaksha realizes the direness of the situation. He’s quick to summon his spear, disappearing in a swirl of anemo and his own tainted aura. He arrives just in time to see a golden figure fall from the sky and into the ground in the middle of Dihua Marsh.

What greets him when he approaches is the sight of a person laying in the middle of a meteor-sized crater, eyes closed and dressed in clothes that look as if they belonged to another world.

After the war that occurred only a few years ago, and with the looming threat of Celestia hanging above the Seven Nations’s heads, he decides it is best to eliminate the threat this sleeping stranger might pose to Liyue.

The tip of the spear was only a few inches away from its destination when a pair of too-bright eyes open. And for the first time in his long life, Xiao falters from the stare of a stranger.

(He doesn’t know yet that this stranger is the person who will shape his life for the next five hundred years and more.)

✧

You awake to a spear pointed at you.

Your eyes look up from the glinting jade spear and meet molten gold. Hues of amber, orange, and yellows swim in the eyes of this stranger, and despite the situation you’re in, you can’t help but be mesmerized by such a sight.

There is a gaping hole in your memory, but you aren’t in any rush to fill it, too entranced by the view in front of you.

(Later, you will remember. Later, you will despair.

But for now, you look upon the being haloed in fiery light and marvel at the sight.)

The sky behind the stranger is bathed in the hues of the dying sun. It makes him look surreal, ethereal. His suspicious eyes haven’t moved in the slightest, haven’t shown any indication of emotion beyond distrust, but when you look into them, you can almost see the light of your brethren echoed in the brilliance of his eyes.

Your mouth moves before you can control it. You haven’t felt so out of control in a thousand years. “Are you a god?”

You wonder what kind of world you have ended up in to be in the presence of a god—and a god is what this being before you must be. Only gods can mirror the resplendence of the stars within their eyes.

Your question seems to have caught him off-guard. The way his brows knit and the tightening of his hold on his spear don’t escape your dazed eyes.

Not a god?

“Who are you?” the not-quite-god asks, raising his spear closer to you. You pay it no mind, your body is more resilient than most would think at first glance.

As soon as the thought comes, though, you are reminded by the searing pain scorching through your body, the brief moment of wonder at the sight of this beautiful stranger, gone.

What comes out of your lips is a whimper, hands coming up to reach futilely at your back where the pain resides the most. He seems taken aback by the sudden change in your actions, but all your attention is diverted to the searing pain resonating from your back.

It spreads through you, rendering you useless and vulnerable on the ground, a not-quite-deity only a few feet in front if you, capable of ending your life in your current state.

Across your arms, through your legs—it reaches every part of your body. You have never felt so powerless in your life.

He kneels at your evident distress, spear gone as his hands hover over your prone form. You don’t see the expression he wears, and when darkness starts creeping through your vision, you don’t see anything at all.

You feel him pull your body to his chest, lifting you up with ease that belies his strength.

Somehow, despite the agony you’re in, you can’t help but think of how warm this stranger feels.

✧

(You close your eyes and place your hand above your heart, trying to recall that warmth you’ve longed for centuries.

“Your Highness.”

The mask returns. Your eyes snap open, hand falling to your side as you turn a cold stare to one of your mages. The voice that comes out of you is one you don’t recognize—you haven’t for the past five hundred years.

“Is it time?”

The cryo mage lowers its head in deference as it utters an affirmative.

You return your gaze to the scene in front of you before turning away and stepping into a portal. The landscape of Dihua Marsh is pushed away and locked in a box, never to be seen along with your heart.)

✧

When you next open your eyes, you’re struck by the sheer the emptiness within you. The warmth that once pulsed through your veins is now nothing but ice. What used to be ichor is now normal—mortal—blood. The power that once defeated gods and destroyed nations has become nothing. A raging fire reduced to ashes.

You are exceedingly aware of how powerless you now are.

Your hand reaches for your side, only to be met with nothing.

A rueful smile makes its way to your lips.

Was it not enough for that god to take away your powers? Now you’re not only empty, but also one half of a whole.

You wonder if your twin is suffering the same fate as you.

“You’re awake.”

The voice startles you. How lost must you have been in your thoughts to be startled by a stranger. You haven’t been caught off-guard since that fight against the god of thunder four hundred years ago.

Wide-eyed, you turn to the source of the sound. A young man stands near the entrance of the sparce room you found yourself in, clad in clothes and armor that spark a vague sense of recognition in you. Your first meeting is a hazy blur in your mind. Trying to wade through your jumbled thoughts is like trying to cradle sand with your fingers—futile.

Handsome, is what your first thought is. Then you see the way he stands so warily, sharp eyes trained on you and never once blinking—dangerous. In your current state, you don’t think you have the power to take him on in a fight and win.

“I’m a bit disoriented from everything I went through,” you start, eyeing him cautiously and beginning to loosen up when he shows no signs of hostility. You try for a disarming smile, “I’m sorry, but could you tell me where I am?”

He crosses his arms—a good sign or a bad sign? Probably the former. “You are in Liyue, the land of the Geo Archon.”

Liyue.

Geo Archon.

You are in Teyvat, right where Celestia rules.

All the blood drains from your face. You school your expression into one of indifference, but it’s too late. This stranger has already seen the way you paled at the mention of the Geo archon.

Your hands clench around the sheets pooled around your legs so tight they’re nearly numb. His eyes shift at the action before returning to your face, his countenance impassive and closed-off.

“I see.” You’re grateful for the steadiness of your voice.

You pretend to contemplate your situation, all while your mind is running a mile a minute. You muddle through the haze in your memory, trying to recall the snippets of conversation you’ve had and the barest of informations you’ve been given about Teyvat.

Liyue. There are seven nations in Teyvat, one of them is Liyue. Each ruled by a respective Archon.

The Geo Archon.

What did the King say about him—

The King.

Oh.

Now-mortal blood rushes through your ears and leaves a faint ringing sensation. Your fingers unclench, eyes glazing over as you remember one crucial detail that you had forgotten in your haste to escape this world.

The King is dead.

And so is the Queen.

The Lectors, the Royal Guards, the Nobles, the people.

Everyone is…

Your hand reaches for your side.

Your sibling, your only family, your other half is…

It closes around empty space.

…gone.

Oh.

You are the only one left.

“Could I be left alone, please?”

He doesn’t question you, staying for a moment longer before disappering in a whirl of dark smoke and the lingering aura of the weight of deceased gods.

Only after the last traces of the stranger disappears do you let yourself fall apart.

✧

Grief is a word that can be used to describe Xiao’s entire being.

How many people has he lost and mourned in the long years he’s lived and breathed? Too many to count.

Perhaps it is why Xiao so easily conceded to your wish to be left alone. He, who finds more comfort in his lonesome than in the presence of others, knows better than anyone how overwhelming the company of a person during grief can be.

Perhaps he is a fool for letting you go, for acquiesing to your request. You’re a suspicious individual, proven more by your reaction to the mere mention of his god. He should have you incapacitated and interrogated, deem whether you’re a threat to Liyue and its people or not.

But he didn’t, because when he met your eyes, he saw himself mirrored in the nothingness in them.

So he leaves and lets you confront your grief and resolves to be gentler when he questions you tomorrow.

✧

He doesn’t ask about what happened yesterday, doesn’t question why you asked him to leave. He simply sits on the wooden chair in the corner of the small, rectangular room and waits for you to speak first.

You shift from your perch at the end of the thin bed. “I’m sorry for asking you to leave yesterday.”

You don’t elaborate more than that. He seems perceptive enough to know that you’d needed that time to be alone, or at least, you hope he is. The deities of this world, you’ve found, are much more difficult to read than others.

“Don’t think much of it,” he says curtly. Nodding, you wait for him to start the conversation, let him take the lead.

Moments pass. He makes no move to say anything else, only staring at you with those sharp, appraising eyes of his—and they really do look like molten gold. You suspect they’d look resplendent beneath the light of the sun.

Your eyes rove over his form, deciding to break the silence with a question. “Are you a warrior of Liyue?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head whilst crossing his arms. You inwardly sigh at the lack of words, it seems you’ll have to be the one to carry this conversation.

Just when you’re about to open your mouth, he speaks, “I am an Adeptus of Liyue.”

He looks at you as if his words carry a great weight to it. Perhaps it does, but you have no way of knowing so. The word adeptus doesn’t spark anything within your memory. The people of Khaenri’ah never spoke in length about the world above, and you were much too occupied with the wonders Khaenri’ah offered to care much about Teyvat.

So you blink at him cluelessly, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint, still watching you with a stare that would have been unsettling to anyone but you.

The words you’re about to say will probably give this stranger a hint of where you come from—rather, where you don’t come from—but you ask anyway, “May I ask what an adeptus is?”

You then realize that you’re probably not in the position to be asking him questions, but he answers anyway. From the looks of it, he doesn’t seem surprised by your ignorance.

“Adepti are guardians of Liyue. Mortals tend to worship Adepti like deity. Rex Lapis himself is an adeptus.”

Like gods then, but not quite. You suppose that explains why he isn’t so wary of you as opposed to what his reaction would have been if he was human.

You hum at the explanation before blinking at the unfamiliar name. You turn to him contemplatively, wondering if this Rex Lapis fellow is someone important enough that this stranger who claims to be an adeptus might get offended if you asked who he is. Perhaps he won’t, since you’ve already shown that you know little of Liyue’s culture and background.

“And who is Rex Lapis?”

His brows furrow at your response. You brace yourself for the worst, but his expression smoothens out.

“It’s no surprise that you are unfamiliar with the title. Only the people of Liyue call him by that name,” his voice remains calm. Somehow, it reminds you of the ever-composed captain of the Royal Guard (you push away the ache that comes with the reminder of an old friend). “Outside of Liyue, Rex Lapis is more known as Morax.”

Ah, the Geo Archon.

This time, you manage to mask your unease with a faux look of understanding. “I see, so Rex Lapis is the Geo Archon.”

He watches your reaction closely, but you don’t give him the opportunity to catch wind of your less than pleasant thoughts on Morax.

“So you serve him?” you say to divert his attention.

He nods, eyes still trained on you. You don’t think he knows what blinking means. If you’d been a normal person, perhaps you would have been intimidated by it, but after facing countless gods and monsters in battle, you merely find it amusing.

“And you?” he asks suddenly, somehow managing to look even more appraising.

“Me?”

“What nation do you hail from? Your clothes… they are not ones I am familiar with.” He tilts his head to the right in a manner eerily similar to that of a bird’s.

You send him a smile to lighten the weight of your next words. “Well, that’s because I’m from another world.”

✧

You decide to tag along the next time he leaves the little shack.

He still hasn’t deigned you trustworthy enough to know his name, so you refrain from asking him about it. Perhaps the Adepti of Liyue are simply that cautious. It’s a good call, you suppose, it’s always the carefree gods that tend to fall first.

(Five hundred years later, you watch the Dragon of the East ravage the city of Mondstadt with fierce winds. You feel the presence of Barbatos within the winds of Mondstadt, but you fear no god. The carefree Anemo Archon is not an exception.)

He stops by the shade of a tree before turning to you with a look that is distincly unamused. “Following me is unnecessary.”

Placing your hands in front of you innocently, you try for a disarming smile. “But I don’t have anything else to do.”

“There is food inside if you need sustenance.“

“Well, it’s kinda…” you trail off, trying to find the word that would least offend him, “Bland.”

He shakes his head. “The taste doesn’t matter. It’s for nourishment.”

“In some worlds, food is considered to be one of the most sacred things. A bland meal can be considered sacrilege, or simply disrespectful to your guest.” His brows furrow, before he can take offense to your words, you continue, “Have you ever tasted food that made you want to take another bite instead of simply eating it because it’s needed?”

“…What is your point?”

You clasp your hands in front of you. “My point is that we should go to the nearest market and shop for ingredients. I promise my cooking is top notch.”

He refutes you with a quick, “No.”

That won’t stop you though. “Fine. You can stay here and eat those tasteless food. I, on the other hand, am going to find the nearest town and buy myself good food.”

You begin to walk away, only to halt when a jade spear is held out in front of you.

“I cannot allow you to roam on your own.”

“Then come with me,” you argue.

There’s a stubborn set to his lips that fades into a quiet sigh. “I will watch you from afar.”

Later that night, when he takes a bite out of the curry you made with your feeble ingredients, you think you see his cold exterior melt a little.

✧

(There’s an emptiness in your stomach that mirrors the hollow shell that is your heart.

It’s been five hundred years since you slept, since you ate, since you last felt alive.)

✧

“Your name is Xiao? That’s a lovely name.”

He averts his gaze at your compliment, a strange feeling in his chest. He doesn’t know why he suddenly cannot look you in the eye, but perhaps it has something to do with the way you so easily said such words to him. It has been many years, but Xiao has never heard anyone call his given name lovely.

Or maybe it’s just you. You, who radiates a kind of brightness that warms and eases the burden of his debt. You, an outlander who claims to not be of this world, cycling through a range of grief and anger while still being open and luminous. He is not known to let people in easily, but throughout the course of a few days, you’ve somehow managed to creep close without his knowing.

Even the townspeople, who he knows have become wary of outsiders because of the war, have started to return your greetings with their own smiles.

“Does your name have a particular meaning?” you ask, laying on your back and uncaring of the grass stains that could potentially ruin your otherworldly clothes.

His mouth parts before he can stop it, and before he realizes it, two hours have passed by simply listening to you tell stories about the worlds you’ve traveled to and the people you met.

✧

On the third month of your stay, he discovers that you have a sibling.

“Will you allow me to leave, or am I still suspicious enough that you won’t let me out of your sights?” There’s a teasing tone to your voice that doesn’t entirely manage to hide the steel undertone to it.

Xiao shakes his head. “No. You are trustworthy.”

But the true reason he was displeased about this situation is—

“Don’t miss me too much, Xiao. I’ll only be gone for a few months at most!”

You’re heading off to Mondstadt to search for further clues on the whereabouts of your sibling.

✧

There’s something you would almost describe as electric in the way he stares at you after you return from your two month journey in Mondstadt, where all you found were questions and more riddles to add to the puzzle that happened in Khaenri’ah.

“Did you miss me?” you ask with a sly grin that turns into pleasant surprise at his response.

“I did.”

With a smile, you sidle up next to him on the bench and bump your shoulders together, acutely aware of the spot where your arms meet.

✧

“So I figured out a way to cook this new recipe I found at the Harbor. It’s called almond tofu.” You proudly present your latest masterpiece to him. “Think of it as a parting gift before I leave for Inazuma.”

His eyes widen at the first bite he takes.

You pester him whether the taste was good or if it was too sweet.

“It’s… good.” And that was about as close as you could get to attaining a five star rating from him.

You sit next to him, plucking up the courage to rest your head on his shoulder. “Don’t miss me too much, Xiao.”

(Oh, but he would.)

✧

“How was Inazuma?”

You laugh, still mourning your singed hair. “Pretty but dangerous. Did you know I got hit by lightning at least twenty times?”

“And what of your sibling?”

“Ah, still nothing.” You’re quick to mask the disappointment in your face. “But I’m sure Sumeru will have more answers for me. It’s the nation of wisdom after all.”

You slump on the grass, looking up at Xiao who stood beside you. There’s a hesitant look on his face as he takes something out of his pocket. He kneels on the grass next to you, something glinting on the palm of his hand.

“I realize that you will be encountering more dangers in your travels.” He eyes the bandages peeking from your sleeves. “This is an adepti amulet, meant to ward off evil, and…”

You sit up, closing your palm around his and taking the amulet. “And…?”

He breathes out at the brief contact between your hands. “And if you find yourself in danger, in a situation where you cannot bring yourself to kill, call out my name and I will be there.”

✧

“They called me a golden Nara.”

Xiao is quiet as he listens to you recount your brief journey to Sumeru, silently admiring the glow in your face and the smile that brightens your features.

“But they forgot about me,” you finish, something like grief, like the emotion that used to hang around your shoulders when he first met you, flashing through your face. You turn to him, reaching out to grab his hand. “You won’t forget about me, won’t you, Xiao?”

(In five hundred years, he will cling to these moments with you and despair his inability to forget.)

✧

“I don’t think I’ll leave for Fontaine soon.”

“Why?”

“I just… want to spend more time with you, is all.”

(In Sumeru, you discovered the abominations left behind by Gold and realized the depth of an old friend’s betrayal.)

✧

“Tell me more about the stars.” They are reflected in your eyes, glittering lights that remind him of the constellations of this world. If Xiao looks closely enough, he thinks he’ll see the beginning and the end of the universe itself.

You turn to him with a serene smile, and in that moment, Xiao cannot fathom why he had ever doubted your claims of being a star-borne traveller.

(“I’m… well, to put it simply, I’m a star.”

He looked at you as if you’d grown a second head within the span of a second. Brows furrowed, mouth set in disbelief, you’d only laughed at his expression then.

He thinks you might be used to these kinds of responses to your claims of being a star.)

“I’ll tell you a little secret,” you say, scooting closer to him until your noses are practically touching. He feels his ears warm at your proximity, but you don’t seem to mind the closeness. “Sometimes, if a person wants something enough, I can hear them if they wish in the presence of a star.”

You then lean away from him, and Xiao feels the loss of your presence keenly. He shakes the thought off his mind, preferring to watch as you sumon a small constellation from the palm of your hand.

“It’s why people wish upon shooting stars. Ah, but the shooting stars won’t hear them. They’re usually either asleep or in the middle of travelling, so if you need to wish to the stars, direct your wishes to the dormant stars in the sky. They’re usually the ones that hear your wishes.”

He watches, mesmerized as you animatedly talk of your people and the nature of stars. He isn’t so much taken with the words coming from your mouth, but with the way your eyes light up and the little gestures you make with your hands as you try to explain the concept of wishing to him.

“Xiao,” you call, and he snaps to attention at the sound of his given name. There’s a sheepish smile on your face, it’s not until he feels something warm wrap around his hand that he realizes why you’re wearing such an expression.

He looks down at your joined hands, heart thundering inside the confines of his chest. Your fingers close around his palm, while his own hand is laying limply, making no move to reciprocate the gesture.

Xiao doesn’t know what to do in this situation. He has never held anyone’s hands before, the closest he’s ever come to it was when he accepted the hand Rex Lapis offered to him. But this is different, Xiao is adept enough to know that. He doesn’t know what to do, the only thing he knows is that the warmth emitting from your palm to his feels nice.

He wants to stay like this forever.

It’s a strange feeling, one he doesn’t understand. But when you start to pull away from him, a hint of embarrassment painted in your features, he unconsciously grips your hand in a fierce hold to keep it in place.

“I thought you didn’t like being touched?”

Xiao has spent enough time with you to know when he is being teased. Still, he decides to answer your question.

“I don’t,” he says bluntly. He feels you begin to pull away at his response, so he adds, “But since it’s you…” he clasps your hand and holds it in place, not allowing you to retreat from him, “I will allow it.”

You look at him in surprise. He turns his head away to hide the rising heat in his cheeks, and in doing so, he fails to see when your surprised expression morphs into something more gentle, adoration hidden within the curve of your lips and the slight crinkle to your eyes.

“Xiao,” you call again. Reluctantly, he tilts his head to meet your eyes, and the sight of you leaves him breathless. With the soft glow of the moon’s reflected light and the reflection of the stars within your eyes, Xiao thinks you would outshine even the highest gods in Celestia.

He swallows, hiding the swirling emotions threatening to break out of his chest with a quiet, “Yes?”

You turn away from him, and he thinks it’s for the best. If you looked at him any longer than you had, he would have drowned in your light. Raising a finger, you point to one of the many stars in the sky. He follows your gaze to a set of stars in the inky sky, not recognizing which constellation it is.

“That’s my constellation.” As soon as the words leave your lips, his eyes sharpen on the smattering of stars, trying to discern what pattern they should form. The name of your constellation leaves your lips as you trace patterns in the air, and he does his best to memorize it, repeating the name in his head like a mantra, though he knows that he won’t forget it for as long as he lives, just as he knows he will never forget you.

You turn to him then, your hold on his hand tightening for a brief moment. “You told me to call your name if I need help, now it’s my turn to return the sentiment.”

You breathe in a heavy breath before releasing it just as quickly.

“Xiao, if you need me, whether it’s for something as mundane as wanting someone to make you almond tofu or if… if the voices become too much, wish for me.” Unexpectedly, you pull his hand from the ground and hold it with both hands in front of your chest, right where your heart is. “Wish for me beneath the light of my constellation, and I’ll be there.”

✧

“They call you the Golden-Winged King, why is that?”

“It’s an allusion to my true form, as Adepti are also known as illuminated beasts.”

You lean close, breath warm against his face with your proximity. “Can I see it?”

“See it?”

“Yes! Can I see your true form?”

Xiao’s initial recation is to say no immediately, but the excitement in your eyes brings him pause, mulling over his decision. “…Perhaps some other day.”

You nod, conceding to his wish. Then, you turn your head up to the sky, watching the birds soar over the clouds wistfully.

“Once I regain my powers, I’ll show you my wings. They’re gold like yours, so we’ll match.” You wink, and it sends something warm coursing through him.

Xiao imagines your body haloed in golden light and thinks no other sight could compare.

✧

(Your golden wings unfurl for the first time in a hundred years. There is no one but you and rotting corpses to witness it.)

✧

“When will you leave for Fontaine?”

“Are you that eager to get rid of me?”

His eyes widen at the accusation. “No, I was…” His eyes narrow when you start laughing into the palm of your hand. Sighing, he lets your teasing go. “I merely wished to be prepared.”

You lean your weight on him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Hm, I’m not sure. I… I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

King Irmin’s silhouette watches you from the corner, a finger pointed accusingly at you. You blink and it’s gone.

Why haven’t you sought justice for our nation?

You close your eyes. “It’s a good day for picking flowers, isn’t it?”

If Xiao is bothered by your sudden change of topic, he doesn’t let it show.

✧

You think you would have been content staying here in Teyvat, living a life of leisure in Liyue with Xiao, venturing to other nations to look for clues on the whereabouts of your sibling.

You have grown soft. If the souls of the enemies you’d slain in other worlds could see you now, they wouldn’t be able to reconcile the sight of the warrior who flew through the sky and fell gods with their blade to the sight of you now, a crown of qingxin flowers in your hair courtesy of Xiao and a basket of herbs in one hand.

Here in the forest of Wuwang Hill, despite the chill in the air and the abundance of ghost stories spread by elders, you feel content. A feeling you haven’t felt since you were separated from your twin.

You would have been at peace with staying here; bury the memories of a broken civilization and the cries of its people; ignore the castle in the sky that continues to taunt you with the constant reminder of your loss; brush off the fleeting desire to destroy each statue you come upon and turn it into dust. Xiao loves his god, and you respect his love even if you despise Morax.

You would have been happy with what you have.

But then you turn around, and you are greeted with the sight of a ghost.

He utters your name.

You whisper his in response.

“Dainsleif.”

✧

You thought you were content with this normal life, but when has normalcy ever suited a person like you?

The Twilight Sword looks at you like you’re his last salvation—and perhaps you are. Perhaps it is your destiny to be the salvation of what remains of his people.

“Travel with me, and I’ll show you the truth of this world.” He offers you his hand. It feels like the beginning of the end.

The sight of Khaenri’ah in ruins continues to haunt you to this very day.

You take his hand, the basket of herbs slipping from your fingers.

✧

(In the distant future, Dainsleif wishes he’d left you in peace.)

✧

“I’m going to be gone for longer this time.”

He blinks after you finish speaking, staring at you for a moment as if processing your words, before asking why.

“I’m going to start being more serious in looking for my twin. It might take me more than a month to return,” is your excuse.

Xiao, ever the soft, caring person he is despite his attempt to mask it, doesn’t voice a protest to your decision. Even when you see the slightest purse in his lips that tells you everything you need to know about how he feels about you leaving. You smile and reassure him that you’ll come back to him no matter what.

“Once I find my sibling, I’ll introduce you to each other. I bet you’ll get along!” Your hand finds his, the familiar warmth soothing you, casting away all your doubts and worries.

“Be safe, and remember to call my name should you encounter trouble,” he tells you, fingers interwining with yours.

Your eyes are bright. This world has not yet taken away the light in them, but as you lean forward and rest your head on his shoulder, they dim for an infinitesimal amount.

“Of course.”

The lie tastes like ash upon your tongue.

✧

(Surrounded by the kneeling remnants of Khaenri’ah’s people, you look back on that moment and hear the sound of the death knell.)

✧

“Do you trust him?”

Dainsleif doesn’t have to mention who ‘him’ is for you to know he’s referring to Xiao.

You decide to make sure anyway. “Who?”

“The adeptus.”

A fond smile crosses your face before you manage to hide it. It doesn’t escape Dainsleif’s sharp eyes.

You continue your trek through the stone path, not pausing for a second as you answer, “I trust him with my life.”

✧

(Years later, when you stand alone in the aftermath of Dainsleif’s betrayal, you decide that the only person you can trust is yourself.)

✧

You return after four years, the longest you’ve been away from him, and the first thing you do is collapse in his arms.

“Xiao,” you gasp, limbs shaking and eyes watery. “Xiao.”

You never tell him what happened, only looked at him with an empty smile.

A week after that, you were gone again.

✧

“Your hair is burnt.”

You laugh sheepishly, but it falls flat even to your own ears. “Natlan’s the nation of pyro for a reason. I may have gotten a little carried away.”

His touch feels nice against your scalp, a welcomed relief from the fighting and constant anxiety of whether you would awake to silence or another trumpet signaling the beginning of another war.

“Will you…” You swallow, gritting your teeth and forcing the words to come out. “Will you sleep beside me tonight?”

Xiao doesn’t say anything, merely pulls you to a thin bed that feels heavenly after sleeping on the ground for so long, and lies down with you.

It’s the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in years.

✧

“I think I’m starting to understand the true nature of this world,” you muse absently.

Xiao looks at you, and though his face remains impassive, you can see that he means to ask what you meant by that. You merely shake your head with a wry smile, heart heavy with emotions you choose not to dwell in right now.

Later, you tell yourself, but not now. Not with Xiao.

So instead, you change the subject to an interesting tid-bit you heard at the markets of Liyue that morning.

“I heard from some of the merchants that there will be a festival next month. One where the entire harbor lights up lanterns during the night.” You watch Xiao closely to gauge his reaction to this.

“Yes, it is the lantern rite festival, to honor the adeptus Sky Bracer who gave his life to defend Liyue during the war,” he replies evenly, looking at you curiously. “Is this the first you have heard of it?”

You nod. “You know I don’t venture much in the harbor when I’m in Liyue.”

He doesn’t say anything to that.

You sidle up closer to him until your shoulders bump. His eyes slide to you, but he makes no move to pull away. Your hand reaches out to hold his gloved one between your own, and the thin cloth separating your skin from each other does nothing to hide the warmth that seeps in you at the simple contact.

You lean your head against his shoulder, his hair softly tickling your forehead, but you don’t mind. The sound of your sigh echoes in the silence between you. It’s a comfortable one.

He shifts his hand, and you let him go for a moment to accomodate him, but instead of pulling away, he intertwines his fingers with yours. Your heart aches at the sight.

Briefly, you wonder how long this peace will last—

Not now, you remind yoursef.

“Xiao,” you start, eyes fixed on your joined hands. You can feel the low rumble from his chest as he hums for you to continue. “Let’s go to the festival someday. I’d like it if we watched the lanterns together.”

You hold your breath, scarcely making a sound as you wait for him to respond. A part of you already knows what he’s going to answer. Xiao is uncomfortable among crowds, he said so to you himself, and the festival is sure to be packed with people wanting to participate in it. You won’t mind if he says no, but a part of you hopes otherwise.

When the silence stretches on for too long, you’re ready to take back your suggestion.

Just as you open your mouth to tell him that you don’t need to go, he speaks.

“Okay.”

You pause, thinking you misheard. You raise your head from his shoulder to look at him properly, blinking at the soft gaze he directs at you.

“Did you just agree?” you question, still not trusting yourself to have heard him right.

“Yes.” Using his free hand, he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, touch featherlight and impossibly gentle as his gloved fingers linger for a moment on your cheek. There’s a soft, barely there smile playing upon his lips; a rare sight that you soak up and lock deep in your memory like a dragon might hoard its gold. “Let us go to the festival. Together.”

You stare at the serene expression on his face for a second before breaking out into a smile. It is, perhaps, the only genuine smile you’ve had in a long while.

“And make lanterns too, and watch them be released during the night?” you add.

He nods, thumb stroking the back of your hand.

Then, a thought occurs to you. “I have to leave next week.”

His hand tightens its hold around yours for the briefest of moments before relaxing once more. His tone is hesitant when he suggests, “Then... when you return from your travels, if you are still amenable, we can go see the lanterns together.”

Your pathetic heart beats a familiar tune at his words, but for now, you let it be. For now, you let yourself fall into the familiar pattern love and being loved.

(You hope you return to him when you reach the end of your journey.)

You press your face against his shoulder to hide your pained expression.

Not now, not now, not now, you repeat in your head like a mantra.

His scent engulfs you, the smell of qingxin flowers and almonds; the flowers he picked for you and the sweet dessert that took you months to perfect to his liking—and perhaps a little bit of you in the faint smell of the stars. Home, your mind supplies. Your heart calms at the familiar scent.

You savor this moment, eyes closed as you memorize what it feels to be held like this.

“I’d like that,” you finally answer, and it takes everything in you to not let your inner turmoil creep into the tone of your voice as you spoke.

You feel him nod, his thumb resuming its gentle strokes at the back of your palm.

“I,” here, he pauses, and though he tries not to let it show, you can feel the hesitancy and awkwardness in his next words, so unused to voicing his affections even after all these years, “I look forward to it.”

Your smile is melancholic and strained. You’d like nothing more than to gaze at his beautiful face and immortalize each feature in your mind—the slant of his eyes, the arch of his brows, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips—but right now, you are more grateful that he can’t see the look on your face.

Hope is a dying ember within the cage of your hollow heart, but you keep it burning, even when it only remains as a tiny spark. For Xiao, you keep it alive.

You know, at the end of this journey, that spark will be reduced to nothing but ashes, but for now, you’re content to let it warm you as you hold his hand and pretend that you and him are the only people in this cruel world.

(You wonder, in the end, if it was worth it.)

✧

Xiao watches you raise a hand in the air, waving it in a subdued manner as you walk backwards down the dirt road. The light of the setting sun casts a molten glow behind you, casting your face in darkness, such that he is unable to discern what sort of expression you have at this moment.

Are you grinning at him, like the first time you ventured out of Liyue to explore the rest of Teyvat? Or do you hold a worried frown, like the last time you left and didn’t return for years?

He doesn’t know, even when you turn around to face the road and the setting sun, the sight of your retreating back etched in his memory, he doesn’t know. (It haunts him, during the first few decades after you’ve gone, how much he doesn't know.)

He stays to watch until your silhouette disappears in the distance, the sun having long set and the sky bathed in inky darkness, and he stays long until you're gone.

(He wonders, for the next centuries to come, if he should have asked you to stay.)

✧

Dainsleif doesn’t question the redness of your eyes when you arrive at your agreed meeting place, merely nodding his head in greeting as he follows you down the path that will take you away from the harbor.

It’s the last time you ever feel grateful towards him.

✧

In the frozen wastelands of Snezhnaya, you meet an old friend.

His name slips from your frozen lips, eyes wide in shock and hope.

“I go by the name Pierro now. The Jester, if you will.”

It’s the last words you hear before his hand pierces your heart.

✧

Once, in one of his harshest nights, when the pain became too much and the voices too loud, Xiao contemplated letting the darkness take him.

Lying in an unknown field somewhere in Dihua Marsh, with his senses overcome with nothing but pain as he tried desperately to hold on, he wished you were there. His fingers dug into the soil beneath him, teeth gritted and small grunts of pain escaping his mouth that he futilely tried to smother.

In the haze between wakefulness and unconsciousness, when all he could register was the agony coursing through him, he dreamt of you.

Xiao remembers your cold touch as you placed his head on your lap. He wanted to reach up to trace the curve of your cheek to see if you were truly there, but his hands refused to move, stuck in a haze. With your hands cupping his face, the pain became more bearable, became a distant thing in his mind so that all he could focus on was on you—the way the moon set its pale light on your features, highlighting every part of you that he loved.

You had looked ethereal in that dream. Despite your hollow eyes and emotionless visage, to him, you were simply beautiful.

He thinks he told you so, in between holding on to his slipping consciousness and memorizing the contours of your face that he has longed to see for centuries—and that was when he’d seen the slightest crack in your façade. He watched your eyes soften for an infinitesimal moment, and he hoped, then, that you longed for him as he did you.

“You make me weak,” he remembers you whispering before pressing a lingering kiss to the mark on his forehead, your lips like ice against his feverish skin.

He doesn’t remember much of the dream beyond that.

✧

It’s only when he awakens beneath a sea of stars, free from the agony and voices that constantly plague him, that Xiao remembers that adepti do not dream.

✧

Only once did you call upon his name in the unnumbered years you spent in this world.

Lying in a pool of your own blood in some unnamed place in the depths of the Abyss, you choke out his name. During this moment, you don’t think of the grievances of this world, you don’t think of the cruelty of Celestia, you don’t even register the clawing shadows of the Abyss nearing your prone form. In this moment, the only thing on your mind is how much you want his visage to be the last thing you see.

“Xiao.”

A dark form looms over you, distinctly human in shape to your blurry eyes. Your heart blooms, beating weakly against your chest—yet still beating just for him.

You smile, blood on your lips. “You came.”

Finally, you let the thin string of consciousness slip through your fingers, and darkness overtakes your vision.

✧

When you open your eyes, it is to the sight of Dainsleif tending to your wounds.

“You were reckless,” he admonishes. “If I hadn’t found you—”

You don’t hear anything beyond that.

Found you.

Dainsleif found you.

You close your eyes and count one to ten, fighting back the sting of tears and the lump at the back of your throat. He promised to come should you ever call his name, and during that moment, teetering between life and death, you hoped he would. And yet…

How naive of you.

They are all the same, aren’t they?

You let your head fall back against the makeshift pillow and release a long, drawn-out sigh. (If Dainsleif notices the way your breath hitches, as if holding back a sob, he wisely does not mention it.)

For now, you let whatever remains of your hollow heart break. For now, you let yourself drown in your sorrow and longing.

✧

It’s only years later that you discover that no matter how much a person screams in the Abyss, their voice will never be heard beyond it.

✧

(“The Abyss is a chaotic place. There is nothing there but the remains of an old civilization cursed by the gods,” Dainsleif warns you, eyes watching you sharply, wearily. You’ve changed, and this journey you insist on embarking on might just be the catalyst that corrupts you to the point of no return.

You continue to stare ahead, the dark depths mirroring the nothingness in your eyes.

“I’ve fought gods and destroyed heavenly beings. If the Abyss is as chaotic as you say, then I will restore Order to it.”

Your tone held a finality to it, and so he inclines his head and follows you to the depths of the Abyss.

Only one of you would come out untouched.)

✧

To this day, Dainsleif regrets his decision.

In the aftermath of Osial, the Traveler was hailed as the savior of Liyue. It felt like a hollow title, meaningless, just as their life has been in the past few months without you by their side.

Missing posters were put up, a smiling portait with a likeness to you, courtesy of the Chief Alchemist using the Traveler as a guide to sketch what you looked like.

Xiao finds one of these posters lying innocuously on the ground of the balcony of Wangshu Inn. His heart hammered within the confines of his chest when he caught sight of it, your smiling face looking back at him from the ground.

To this day, he keeps the poster—the only image he has of you—close to him, tucked in a hidden compartment by his sleeve, only taking it out when the burden of his karmic debt becomes too much.

He ignores how the artist couldn’t quite manage to capture the essence of your smile. It was too flat, a poor imitation of the real thing. Your smiles were always so bright, one side a little crooked, with just the barest crinkle in your eyes. But it was irrelevant, because the only thing that mattered to him was seeing you, even if it is only through a sketch.

(He remembers the first time he met the Traveler, eyes wide and heart racing as he appeared in the balcony and thought, you came back.

But then he had gotten a closer look, and his hope shattered when the Traveler turned their head and met his eyes. There was you, in the shade of their eyes and slant of their lips, but he knew you enough to know that the person in front of him was not you.

The Traveler introduced themself then, and Xiao understood.

This is your twin.

And it’s only when he finds himself staring, engraving the sight of your likeness to his mind, that he realizes that after hundreds of years, without his knowing, he had started to forget what you looked like.)

✧

When the Traveler comes knocking on Wangshu Inn, asking him to come watch the Lantern Rite, his answer is a firm no.

Xiao recalls one of the many conversation you had with him, a nostalgic look upon your face as you recalled how persistent your lost sibling could be. The most persistent person ever, you said.

He finds himself agreeing hundreds of years later as he’s greeted by the sight of the Traveler’s determined eyes.

“Won’t you come to the Lantern Rite?”

Once, Xiao was asked the same question by a person sharing the same face. Once, he agreed. Once, he found himself looking forward to something for the first time in his long life.

It has been nearly five hundred years, but within the recesses of his heart, he still longs to watch the sky light up with thousands of lanterns with you.

So instead of refusing, he says, “I once knew your sibling.”

The sight of a shocked look that morphs into one of desperation in the Traveler’s face—your face—nearly brings Xiao to rest his hand on your cheek. But the Traveler’s voice, so different from yours, brings him back to the present.

It takes him hours to recount the past. Words have never been his strongest suit, but he tries because the Traveler is your sibling, someone dear to you and, by extention, someone he should hold dear to himself as well.

They spend hours on that balcony talking about you, exchanging stories and memories. It’s truly an experience to have someone close to you describe how you were as a person, and Xiao finds himself clinging to the smallest snippets of information the Traveler hands him, no matter how innocuous it may be.

And when the sun begins to set and the remains of the old gods begin scouring the land, the Traveler asks him one more time.

“Will you come to the Lantern Rite? You can watch from afar, away from the crowds. My twin never liked crowded places either.”

This time, he says yes.

✧

Down by the harbor after the fireworks have set off, the Traveler releases their lantern with hope in their heart and a whisper of a wish at the end of their tongue.

I’ll find you someday.

✧

Perched on a nearby cliff overlooking the entirety of Liyue Harbor, Xiao watches the night fill with tiny spots of light and tries to recall the last time he gazed at such a sight.

In the deepest parts of his mind, he wishes you are beside him, watching the same sight as him.

He imagines the smile that would be dancing on your lips, your eyes filled with life as they reflected the light cast by the lanterns. He would hold your hand and you would rest your head on his shoulder, telling him of your travels and the enemies you faced. He would admonish you to be less reckless and remind you to utter his name if you need him, and you would laugh and promise him you’ll do as he says.

And when the lights start to fade and the sky darkens, you would suggest sleeping under the stars. Neither of you would end up sleeping anytime soon because you would be busy spending the rest of the night pointing out each star and constellation. He would listen, as he always did, and the two of you would spend the rest of the night basking in each other’s presence.

But then he blinks, and he’s alone once again.

Xiao looks up to the lantern-ridden sky with a faint smile, ignoring the ache in his heart and the coldness by his side.

✧

Hidden by the shadow of the trees, you watch the sky light up with hundreds of lanterns. Surrounded by Abyss mages, the weight of the object in your hands feels like lead. You wonder, in what feels like the hundredth time, what you are doing here.

Foolish.

Slowly, you relax your grip and let the unlit lantern fall to the ground.

This is the last time you will indulge in old sentiments.

You feign ignorance to the lone person sitting by the mountainside in the distance. You only came to Liyue to see your sibling. Nothing more.

“Gather the rest. We’re leaving,” you order as you turn your back to the sight of the city your sibling saved.

Your mages bow in deference and follow in silence as you walk away, leaving no trace of anyone ever being there.

In the morning, all that’s left is an abandoned lantern lying on the ground.

(We never did get to see the lanterns together.)

word count: 9k

note: after the events at the chasm archon quest, xiao slowly begins to journey with the traveler in their quest to find you and search for answers on how you ended up as the leader of the abyss order. i won’t make a part 2 because we really don’t know much abt the abyss twin and what really happened during the cataclysm. i made the ending open-ended and vague, but i imagine that your and xiao’s story don’t have a happy ending.

#last fic for 2022!#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #genshin xiao x reader #gn reader #abyss twin reader #long fic #xiao angst

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yyh4ever · 1 year ago

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Live-Action Series "Yu Yu Hakusho" Premieres Worldwide on December 14, 2023

Netflix has finally confirmed the premiere date and released two teasers on their twitter and official site. The soundtrack and the spirit gun seems cool. We're still waiting for a trailer and the rest of the cast announcement. I was surprised to know it took 5 years to produce this first season.

Furthermore, it has been decided that a special event called "The Eve of the Decisive Battle - Worldwide Fastest Screening Meeting” will be held in Tokyo on the eve of the distribution, December 13! Detailed information including guests and how to apply will be announced at a later date on the official site of the event: yuhakuevent.com. The applications start in about 30 days, so I'm wondering if that's when the trailer and full cast will be unveiled as well.

They might show an advance screening of the first episode. I'm assuming the guests are going to be the actors and director, but it would be a dream if Togashi-sensei showed up.

More info from Netflix:

More than three decades after "Yu Yu Hakusho" first captured the imagination of readers, the beloved manga gets a live-action adaptation that will debut exclusively on Netflix on December 14.

The original manga by the legendary Yoshihiro Togashi made waves when it was serialized in Weekly Shonen Jump for four years from 1990. The series breathes new life into the story, and fans old and new can expect to encounter their favorite characters in ways that have never been seen before.

Utilizing a unique global one-team production strategy that spanned both Japan and the United States—the same approach to adapt the acclaimed “ONE PIECE” manga—Netflix took the same level of commitment to quality and authenticity in the live-action ONE PIECE to the production of Yu Yu Hakusho.

An international dream team was also assembled to bring the epic tale to the screen, tapping into the most advanced CG and VFX technologies from around the world. Known as “the most innovative VFX studio in the world” and lauded for their work on major Hollywood productions, Scanline VFX was instrumental in giving life to all the characters, both human and yokai (spirits), while delivering realistic battle action sequences.

Taking five years to complete the production of Yu Yu Hakusho, the team painstakingly ensured that the subtleties of every character’s emotions were accurately depicted in the adaptation. The fusion of state-of-the-art technology and a passion for staying true to the source material promises to make this adaptation a standout in the world of live-action anime.

Project Details:

Based on the manga: Yoshihiro Togashi “Yu Yu Hakusho” (Shueisha Jump Comics)

Director: Sho Tsukikawa

Cast: Takumi Kitamura, Jun Shison, Kanata Hongo, Shuhei Uesugi

Screenplay: Tatsuro Mishima

VFX Supervisor: Ryo Sakaguchi (Scanline VFX)

Executive Producer: Kaata Sakamoto (Netflix)

Producer: Akira Morii

In Association with：THE SEVEN

Production: ROBOT

Produced by: Netflix

Source: Netflix

#Yu Yu Hakusho Netflix Live Action #December 14 2023 #Takumi Kitamura #jun shison #kanata hongo #Shuhei Uesugi #yoshihiro togashi #yusuke urameshi #spirit gun

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skygemspeaks · 1 year ago

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thoughts on episode 5:

when luffy returns fire on garp's ship, it was hilarious to see garp burst out into disbelieving laughter. i understand that they're leaning into the awful parent aspect of his character in this, but it's also funny seeing him unable to hide that he's actually a little proud of luffy. like hey, if you're going to be a pirate, at least you're a good one

the baratie is absolutely gorgeous! as soon as the first pictures came out last year, i was so excited to see it in person, and it did not disappoint. i especially love the little floating patios they have outside, as well as the floating docks. i would love to eat there!

mihawk is finally introduced! i love that we get to see him fighting off don krieg. i can understand why they would cut out krieg's part from the baratie arc, but as with other plot points they've cut out of the past few episodes, i like that they gave a little nod to it anyways. also, garp being the one to call mihawk on luffy gives a logical reason for mihawk to be at the restaurant on the same day as the straw hats, instead of it being an entire coincidence.

zoro and the others ribbing nami after sanji hits on her is hilarious, it feels so accurate to how actual friend groups behave. they're such children! sanji overall seems a lot more likable in this than he is in the manga, i really like him!

the scene where sanji and luffy are talking about the all blue and luffy invites sanji to join his crew is really sweet! sanji's already looking at luffy like he's head over heels for him, and that's one thing i think the cast captured really well - just how utterly adored luffy is by his crew.

when luffy tells zeff about sanji feeding Gin, and Zeff just smiles and says "he's a good kid" i just about melted. i love that he refuses to be nice to sanji's face, but is really unapologetically proud of his son behind his back.

koby's conversation with garp was well played out. i'm a little iffy about koby's character arc this season though. it seems like a good set-up for the doe-eyed, naive, kid who knows nothing about the world to realize that the organization he looks up to to protect the innocents of the world is nothing but a sham, and for him to go his own separate way, but we know that can't happen. i've always been of the opinion that koby would make a much better revolutionary than a marine tbh, and this series is bringing that out full force. but at the same time, i think i really like garp's message that yeah, the world isn't fair and it's so grating that they have to put up with the double standards inherent in a group like the seven warlords, but that at the end of the day they have to believe that the marines are doing more good by taking down dangerous pirates than the bad they're doing by turning around to the doings of the seven warlords. one piece has always done a good job at moral ambiguity, and it shows in the live action as well

also, another aspect of this conversation that i liked was garp explaining to koby that he could have been fleet admiral by now if he really wanted to, but that doing so would mean him having to compromise on his values (and for those of us who follow the manga/anime, we know that more specifically relates to taking orders from the celestial dragons), and that doing so would mean having to give up his freedom. it's a great line, because it calls back to luffy's attitude of being a pirate means having freedom. you can see that luffy and garp are both the result of taking the same ideology to different extremes. it's easy to see how they're related, and how garp's ideals had an impact as well, in the same way that shanks did.

"you could never fail me" 🥺🥺🥺 i like how iñaki played this scene. there's still a lot of room for him to grow as an actor, but i like him as luffy, and i can't wait to see his career after this. i hope we can get more seasons, so we can see him become the luffy he was always meant to be

#opla #opla spoilers #opla liveblog #monkey d luffy #monkey d garp #dracule mihawk #one piece #roronoa zoro

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moons-and-mobility-aids · 22 days ago

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Content Warnings: Adult content, mostly accurate depictions of being an onlyfans creator (hi, I am one), reader is fem, uses a wheelchair, and has cerebral palsy. Taglist: @alohastitch0626, @jspidey5, @laceandsuch, @kneelforloki

The sun is gentle on your skin—not too hot, not too cold, but just right, like a soft embrace. The rhythm of the waves rolling off in the distance is soothing, and for the first time in weeks, you feel your body truly relax. It's a rare sensation, one that you try to soak in as much as possible.

You haven't been to the beach in ages, and this trip was a last-minute idea. After a week of battling fatigue and pain, you needed a change—the smell of the ocean air, the feel of sand between your toes, the expanse of open sky. It's the perfect escape from the never-ending demands of content creation and the relentless ping of incoming messages.

There aren't many people around, which is surprising given your proximity to the only ramp designed for wheelchairs and strollers. But the solitude is welcome, allowing you to enjoy the peace without feeling like you need to perform for an audience. It's just you, the vast ocean, and the occasional seagull passing by. As you sit there, letting the warmth of the sand seep into your bones, a thought crosses your mind.

A few days have passed since you returned from your brief hiatus, and though you haven't posted anything new on OnlyFans—your fans are being sustained by the scheduled content—you know they would welcome something a little more spontaneous, something that allows them to see a side of you that isn't always on display. And when do you feel this good, this free of pain? Why not capture the moment and show your subscribers that life isn't just about overcoming struggles, but also about embracing moments of joy?

You reach for your phone, tucked away in the safety of your beach bag, and unlock it with a swipe of your thumb. The camera app opens to a view of your sun-kissed skin, looking smoother than ever under the gentle glow of daylight. You're wearing a simple bikini, nothing too flashy or suggestive, just enough to accentuate the curves you've worked hard for.

The photos you take aren't overly posed or attention-seeking—they're snapshots of peace, of contentment found in solitude. You angle the phone just right, capturing the length of your legs stretched out before you, sand sticking to the sheen of sunscreen while the indigo waves kiss the shore behind. A second photo focuses on your torso, the bikini top hinting at the shape beneath without revealing too much. It's all about suggestion, not exhibition.

Satisfied with the images, you switch apps and tap open OnlyFans, the familiar icon signalling a space where you control the narrative, where you decide what to reveal and what to keep hidden. Your subscribers relish these glimpses into your everyday life, finding intrigue in the mundane made intimate. The beach setting is a departure from your bedroom backdrop, from the soft glow of your ring light that usually bathes your videos in flattering warmth.

Caption: Beach day 🌊☀️ Taking some time for myself and thought I’d share this little moment with you all. Hope you’re enjoying your day as much as I am! 💖

Your thumb hovers over the "post" button before pressing down, a flicker of excitement kindling in your chest as the photos upload. It's a departure from your carefully curated feed—a moment of unscripted joy that feels both intimate and invigorating. Your followers will love it.

With a satisfied sigh, you let the phone slip from your grasp, the screen's glow fading against the backdrop of sun-drenched sand. A sense of tranquillity settles over you, nurtured by the rhythmic pulse of the ocean nearby. It's a rare respite from the demands of stardom, a chance to simply be rather than perform.

Minutes turn into a languid hour. The phone vibrates softly against your calf, but you don't reach for it. Not yet. The world can wait. Right now, the sun's touch is more real than any notification.

Eventually, curiosity nudges at your relaxed mind, and you sit up, brushing sand from your legs. Picking up the phone, the screen illuminates with a flurry of notifications—your followers have been busy.

Scanning the comments, you see the usual mix. Compliments on your appearance, expressions of envy at your day on the beach, wishes that they could join you. A smile tugs at your lips, not just at their words, but at the sense of connection they bring. You crafted this community from nothing, and their loyalty is a balm to your soul.

One name catches your eye: Prongs. It's not surprising to see him here—he's always quick to interact with your posts—but there’s a small thrill each time you spot his username. His comments often carry an edge of flirtation that never fails to amuse you.

ProngsPlayground_free: Beach day, huh? 😏 You look amazing. Hope you’re soaking up some of that sun for us too. 💖

You can't help but smile at his comment. There's something about the way Prongs flirts that always makes you happy—it's fun but respectful, never crossing any lines. You've had plenty of subscribers who pushed boundaries, but he's always been different. There's a sense of fun in your interactions, and you look forward to his messages.

It's not just Prongs, though. You know Moony and Padfoot are there too, watching your content with just as much interest. You think about them now, imagining the three of them seeing this picture of you on the beach and how they might react. It's funny how they've become a little group in your mind, and you think of them as a team now.

Your fingers tap out a response, the playful banter coming as easily to you as breathing.

You: Thanks, Prongs! 😘 Wish you guys could be here too—bet you’d love the view. 😉

The message sent, you lower your phone onto your lap, a sense of contentment washing over you. You don't know these people in real life, but they've become a part of your world in their own special way. As you watch the waves roll in, you can almost imagine them on the other side of the screen, faces lighting up as they read your message, huddled together in shared camaraderie.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you lean back into the sand, letting the warmth seep into your body. The rhythmic lullaby of the ocean fills your ears, drowning out the distant chatter of beachgoers. This has always been your sanctuary, a place where you can shed the weight of expectations and simply exist.

But even here, you're not wholly free. Not when thoughts of them refuse to be quieted.

Their names have resonated within you from the moment they subscribed to your page. An inexplicable pull, growing stronger with each passing day, each shared message. You remember watching their own post, feeling something akin to fascination stir within you as you listened to their voices—rich, velvety layers of sound that brushed against your senses like physical touches, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

It's an anomaly, this interest you've developed. You've always prided yourself on being professional, maintaining clear boundaries between the men who subscribe to your content and your own personal life. But with Prongs, Moony, and Padfoot, those lines are blurred. There's something about them, something different that beckons you closer even as you remind yourself of the need for distance.

You glance down once more at your phone, the screen lighting up with a new notification. A direct message waits for you, its contents unknown. You tap on the icon, a small smile tugging at your lips in anticipation.

ProngsPlayground_free: That view, though... 🔥 We're all distracted now. We should be editing, but I think we need a break after seeing that. Even Moony is a bit distracted, and he's usually the sensible one. 😏 - Padfoot

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you read the message, shaking your head slightly. The thought of them being thrown off their game because of you sends a small thrill through you.

Your fingers fly across the screen, crafting a response that matches the playful banter you've come to enjoy with them. It's flirty yet casual, the perfect blend of familiarity and charm that has become your signature move.

You: Taking a break, huh? I can't blame you—it's tough to focus with a beach in the picture. 😉 But don't get into too much trouble. 😘

The message sends, and you put your phone back down, letting out a content sigh as you watch the waves crash on the shore. The sun is beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over everything, and the breeze that brushes against your skin is just the right balance of cool and comforting. It's one of those moments that make you wish you could stop time, a peaceful respite from the usual whirlwind of your life.

But even as you try to absorb the tranquility around you, your thoughts keep circling back to the boys—to their messages and how they've woven themselves into the fabric of your everyday existence. You've always been cautious about what you share online, maintaining a certain distance between yourself and your followers. But with Prongs, Moony, and Padfoot, it feels like that line is blurring, like you're allowing them to see more of you, piece by piece.

It's not just about the content anymore. It's about the connection—the ease with which you converse, the way they understand the in-between spaces of your words, the sense of camaraderie that transcends the digital divide. They've become more than just fans; they're friends, in a way that both excites and terrifies you.

And while you can't quite put your finger on when exactly it happened, you realise that you've started to look forward to their responses, find yourself thinking about them even when you're offline. It's a strange feeling, unsettling yet exhilarating all at once. But for now, you push away the questions, focus instead on the fun chats and light-hearted flirtation.

You snap one last picture of the beach—this time without you in it—and tuck your phone back into your bag. A sense of calm washes over you as the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and purple. For now, everything is as it should be.

And tomorrow, when you return to the daily grind, they'll be there, ready to pick up the conversation where you left off.

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