#and what if the primes were once mortal and had mortal failings

[blackwldcw]

Blackarachnia as The Divine

“I will storm the Gods and shake the Universe” ― Euripides, Medea

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Matrix's Guide to Choosing (And Raising) A Prime

Having grown increasingly frustrated with the continual failure of its Primes, the Matrix has had enough of being passed around. Determined to pick its own Prime for once, the Matrix has set off to select its chosen.

Well, it would be off doing that a lot more if it didn't have one young Orion Pax to take care of.

(NOTE: This is a snippet and will be a full fic soon :D)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The mythology presented on Cybertron generally depicted Primus’s core, the Allspark, as being a place of peace and respite. By almost all accounts, this idea was supported and correct. Primus’s core was a lovely afterlife for the fallen until the time came for rebirth and a comforting cradle for those yet to be. But for one who was neither living nor dead?

It was the same as being stuck at the bottom of a hole with no real way out.

The Matrix’s initial decision to abandon the surface for a time was made in a moment of calculated rashness. It was tired of the foolishness of its previous chosen bearers and at the time, it had no desire to be passed around and presented only with lackluster options. Sentinel had not been its ideal choice, but Sentinel was all it had to work with during its last stint on the surface.

The Matrix refused to suffer through that again. 

It needed someone worthy, and it was absolutely through with leaving the selection pool up to someone else to create. No, the Matrix was going to find a right and proper bearer this time. It would choose itself and it would mold its champion into the glory of Prima without so many pathetic impurities to tamper with its work.

At least, once it got out of Primus’s core.

The Matrix contemplated for what could have been vorns. It was impossible to tell without access to the surface or the frame of its chosen. However, eventually, the Matrix reached a conclusion. It would ask, then it would adapt. The task was of course, quite daunting. None save for Primes spoke to Primus. The Matrix was a mere forging tool, unworthy of direct communication… but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I shall bring forth a Prime worthy of thy glory. Release me, and I shall not fail you again.”

The Matrix waited, its many failures weighing on it as it felt the attention of its god turn toward it. Primus’s gaze was a heavy thing to bear, and most mortals hardly even noticed it. The Matrix wished it had such ignorance as it sensed Primus sifting through its crystalline core, seeking answers and understanding. If the Matrix had been a living being, the prodding would have likely hurt. When Primus pulled back, it did however ease at the lack of further invasion.

“Seek. Walk amongst my children. Bring forth one who shall stand against the coming darkness.”

Blessed relief washed over the Matrix, memories of prior Primes struck down for their foolishness fading away as the Matrix found itself released onto one of the many winding paths surrounding its god’s core. It lay there, momentarily frustrated with its lack of mobility before it ran a quick assessment of its shell.

Technically, the Matrix itself was a crystalline computation device and sparkless intelligence. It did not possess the necessary components required for full frame functionality. If it had a bearer, then it could make adjustments, but on its own, the closest thing the Matrix had to a frame was its shell. The ancient sentio metalico that made up its shell was moldable, easy to change if the Matrix demanded it. How else was it to bond to its bearer? Some were small, some were large. It had to make some adjustments.

It had never used its shell’s adjustability in this manner before, but again, desperate times called for desperate measures.

After sifting through a few old memories of creatures that met its size categorization, the Matrix shifted. Its shell warped, changing from golden handles and casing to instead create four spindly spider-like legs. Its core was carefully kept encased and served as the centerpoint for its new mobile frame. The change was disorienting for a moment, but soon, the Matrix adapted.

It always did.

Up it went, painstakingly using its legs to pull itself up and through shafts long abandoned. It knew these paths, for Prima had walked them before. After him, Guardian travelled far and wide and Nova went through great pains to know as much as possible for fear for his own life. The Matrix knew what roads to take and marched without regard for the passage of time or nonexistent exhaustion. It did not wither, it did not fade. It was the Prime forger, a tool designed for one purpose and one purpose alone.

Find, forge, and guide Primes to better Cybertron and its people.

Its design pushed it onward, until at last, the Matrix emerged from an old garbage chute. It was dirty, a fact that bothered it to a degree. Potential bearers would not be fond of seeing it in such a state. But first and foremost, its task was to assess and then, if the Recorder Prime still lived, return to him for guardianship. Alpha Trion always listened to the Matrix. It was he that carried the Matrix to Guardian after all.

The Matrix shifted its attention, sifting through memory until it determined its estimated location. Based on the towering and geometric city structure, it suspected Iacon. Outer Iacon at any rate, considering the amount of dilapidated buildings it observed. The trek was going to be long at this rate, but that afforded the Matrix time to observe and learn-

The Matrix halted in its steps as a cry rang out, young and desperate. Its legs tapped as it turned, adjusting its view and scuttling toward the source of the sound. Part of its design was to seek out and guide its Prime to aid the weak and the needy. The Matrix had no bearer, but it could not help but wish to see.

And see it did.

Rounding a corner, the Matrix saw devastation. Fallen crystal spires and toppled sunstone trees littered the area, plant life uprooted and made into little more than rubble. This was absolutely the outskirts of Iacon. These areas had been home to Iacon’s last forest, the only place Sentinel had seen fit to preserve at the Matrix’s prodding. Now it was little more than a barren wasteland, caution tape and markers for new construction already in place.

The Matrix was not living. It did not feel rage. But if it could have felt rage, it would have been seething as it carefully made its way through the ruins, searching for the cry that rang out without end. On and on it roamed, until finally, it came to a pile of rubble. It was largely leaf litter and branches from fallen trees, but hidden behind all that, the Matrix sensed life. Small and fearful, but living nonetheless.

“Be at ease. I mean no harm.” 

The Matrix projected its field, presenting the copied signatures of Prima and Nova, the most empathetic of its chosen. As it did so, a small frame sifted through the mess, lingering by a hole leading into the rubble and glancing out cautiously. The Matrix paused, its sensors picking up something impossibly young.

A sparkling. This one was a sparkling.

Immediately the Matrix folded its sharp limbs away, softening them and shifting until its shell produced optic shutters so that it might make its core appear as if it were an optic, and thus, less terrifying to the little one. If it had a face and vocalizer, it would try to smile and coo to ease the tiny being before it. Instead, all it could do was settle and emit waves of peace, blinking slowly to show its docility. 

The sparkling remained a careful distance away, growling lowly. But after a time, the sparkling came forward, prodding at the Matrix with tiny clawed digits. As it did so, the Matrix could finally get a good look at the distressed sparkling left to rot in fields of destruction. 

The sparkling was still largely matte gray, as was customary for all newly forged little ones. Its optics were a stunning blue of the cycling variety, taking after Amalgamous in design. Its frame type indicated it would be meant for the ground, but the small finials on its helm reminded the Matrix of Thirteen, Prima’s ever elusive visionary. The sparkling’s growls slowly eased into faint chuffs as the Matrix continued to emit soothing waves of emotion, finally letting fangs hide behind a soft smile.

The sparkling patted the Matrix’s shell, gently caressing its core. They were almost the same size, and yet the sparkling was so thin…

The Matrix was not intended to get involved in such affairs without a bearer. But looking around… there were none to care for the sparkling before it. The newspark was bound to extinguish at this rate. That could not be allowed if the Matrix had a say in things.

Hoping for the best, the Matrix carefully unfolded a limb to draw the sparkling closer. The sparkling hissed at first, tensing and batting at the Matrix’s outstretched leg. But after a moment, it accepted the contact, returning to a comforting series of chuffs as the Matrix purposefully increased its temperature and wrapped itself around its newfound ward. It had to go slowly, so slowly in fact that by the time it wound fully bound to its new ward, the sparkling was deep in recharge, nuzzling against the Matrix’s core.

This was acceptable.

Gently, so as to not cause too much distress, the Matrix shifted a limb to hold the sparkling in place, and with its other three, it began the long journey to the Archives. Everything else could wait. For now, it would go to one it trusted and lean on Alpha Trion’s guidance.

The Matrix was a Prime forger, a warrior maker and observer. It did not directly interact. 

But as it felt the sparkling venting softly against it, the Matrix found itself willing to make an exception.

[sapphicjackal]

Bingyuan Soulmate au 2

Part 1

For as long as Luo Binghe can remember, dark shapes would imprint themselves onto his skin accompanied with foreign feelings. The feelings were always benign and soft. Eventually Luo Binghe knew them to be words, but he was illiterate and unable to read what they said. He could recognize fragments based on what little his mother could teach him.

He asked his mother about the words but she couldn’t see them. She believed him that they were there and told him that maybe if he could become a cultivator he could find out what it was. Cultivators knew all manner of secret and esoteric things that mortals didn’t, and maybe this was a sign he was destined to be one.

Luo Binghe was happy about that, and he traced the sifting words reverently, feeling out their shapes and reveling in the feelings they brought. The feelings were so warm and gentle, they brought him even greater comfort after his mother died and he was alone on the streets. Each morning, and sometimes other parts of the day, he would feel a message arrive with a caring greeting. He didn’t know what the words said, but he knew they were for him. 

Getting chosen for Qing Jing Peak was a blessing. Surely on the Peak of Scholars he would find the answers he seeked about these words. Luo Binghe probably should have asked someone about it, but some part of him felt possessive over it. These words belonged to him and him alone. He didn’t want anybody to know about them. If they knew they might be able to take it away, Luo Binghe never wanted to lose the daily message.

Everybody hated him on Qing Jing Peak, his Shizun poured tea on him and the Shixiong’s bullied him, but each morning without fail, a message would arrive on his wrist. Luo Binghe worked tirelessly on his literacy, spending every free moment learning how to read and write. He wanted to know what was being said to him.

Each night, he snuck into the library to read the materials available for new coming illiterate disciples. As the scholarly peak, there was a dedicated selection towards priming new disciples to the standards of Qing Jing Peak. Luo Binghe didn’t have time to view then during the day because of his endless chores, but he was determined to learn, even if it meant going during the night. 

Nobody was allowed to go during the night, but Luo Binghe had carefully tested it and found out that there was nothing to alert anyone. So as long as he was careful to make sure everything looked undisturbed, he could learn from the materials. It meant he got little sleep, but Luo Binghe was nothing if not determined. Once he set his mind to something, he would strive doggedly to succeed. 

Slowly he began to be able to read the messages, recognizing several characters even if he couldn’t read the whole thing quite yet. He could see words like “happy”, “love”, “good”, “well”, “today”, and “I” appear with the most frequency. It was the final thing that confirmed to him his theory that it was someone talking to him. Perhaps a spirit?

It didn’t seem like a malevolent force, but he’s learned that anything being attached to a person is often a bad thing. They often drained qi or lifeforce, and were parasitic in nature. He would have to remain on guard with these mysterious words and whoever they were connected to.

He waited a few more months until he could read more of what was said than he was unable to read. The message came in that morning as it always did. Luo Binghe had filched an old and worn calligraphy brush along with a near empty pot of ink that he stowed away in preparation.

“I hope you have a wonderful day that brings you joy.” it read. The message was intimate and informal, paired with genuine well wishes.

“Who are you?” Luo Binghe wrote carefully. He struggled with writing more than reading, but he was making progress to improve in both areas as quickly as he could. 

The reply came quickly, the feeling of it taking shape was oddly scratchy and the size of the lettering was a uniform thickness that appeared with a drag unlike a brustip. Luo Binghe had never wondered about the writing implement that was being used up until he could now compare it to his own writing and experience how they differed.

“I’m your soulmate! It’s nice to meet you.” appeared along with a bubbly feeling of anticipation.

Soulmate? 

Luo Binghe’s eyes widened in disbelief. He had heard tales of soulmates before, of individuals connected by red strings of fate tied around their fingers. But those strings were invisible and soulmates weren’t able to communicate by writing. 

“Soulmate? This one has never heard of words on skin happening with soulmates." Luo Binghe wrote, trying not to get his hopes up. This could be a spirit or demon trying to trick him. 

“How old are you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard of soulmates, everyone has one. Only soulmates can see each other’s words, but everybody gets them. Unless their soulmate isn’t born or has died.” came the words with a sense of absolute certainty and curiosity. It felt like truth. Luo Binghe didn’t know that truth was an emotion that could be felt. 

Luo Binghe thought about it. The way that this writing had been with him for as long as he could remember, even before he knew what it meant. The shifting shapes and frequent emotions that came with the words. The feelings attached to the words that he could feel every time he touched the strokes. 

It had never harmed him, it was simply faithful and earnest companionship. Even when his mother died, his… soulmate… was always there. Writing to him little well wishes that were sincerely meant.

Luo Binghe didn’t think that this form of soulmates was what humans experienced. Ning Yingying would have already told him if she had someone writing to her, and he would have seen more people looking at their skin more. His A-Niang hadn’t known what he was talking about either.

However, humans weren't the only race of sentient beings. Maybe there was something else that all had soulmates. And maybe those soulmates could sometimes be humans. Maybe just maybe, this was them sending messages across their string.

“This one is 10.” Luo Binghe wrote, biting his lip. His 11th birthday was in a few weeks, but for now he was 10.

“I’m 15, and I’ll help you with anything you need. Let me know anything you struggle with learning and I’ll try to help you.” came the reply, earnest and determined. Luo Binghe was upset to see the earlier words fade away, leaving empty gaps between his own brushstrokes. 

“Really?” Luo Binghe asked, losing the battle against fighting off his hope. It was a doomed endeavor from the start. Luo Binghe wanted nothing more than someone who cared and…

“Yuan-ge will help you with anything. I promise.” came the writing, filled with firm conviction and gentle affection.

“Yuan-ge?” Luo Binghe questioned, overflowing with giddy happiness and anticipation. 

His soulmate. His. His Yuan-ge. His A-Yuan.

“My name is Shen Yuan,” Yuan-ge wrote, and Luo Binghe drank it in greedily. He traced the characters over and over, wishing he could carve them into his skin so they would never leave. He felt almost dizzy with elation when he remembered the way that his Yuan-ge has never once left him. Yuan-ge has written to him everyday, maybe even since he was born. Luo Binghe may have been abandoned in a river during the coldest night, but maybe, even then, on his wrist there had been words of love.

His hands shook as he collected himself, wanting to respond to his Yuan-ge.

“This one is Luo Binghe.” he wrote once his hands were steady. His name was the first words he knew, and they were one of the greatest gifts given to him by his A-Niang. Luo Binghe stroked his pendant, missing her dearly. He wished he could have told her about Yuan-ge.

“Bing-er, I’m happy to finally meet you.” Yuan-ge said, his words were so saturated in pure warmth that it made tears form in Luo Binghe’s eyes. It felt like A-Niang’s hugs after she placed a kiss on the crown of his head and enveloped him into her arms. It felt like love.

At that moment he wished nothing more desperately than to see his Yuan-ge. He wanted to find the one at the end of his string, even if he had to traverse the realms to find him. One day, Luo Binghe promised himself.

One day he would find his Yuan-ge.

Luo Binghe would become the best cultivator ever so that he could track his Yuan-ge down. Even if it took his whole life, he would find his soulmate. Shen Yuan. 

With a smile, Luo Binghe began writing on his leg. He’d have to remember to find a rag to wipe away the ink tomorrow. There was probably something dirty and stained in the storehouse that nobody would notice missing. 

He’d also have to have some inks mixed and prepared carefully. Normally the little pots were used for painting pigments that way someone could paint outdoors, but Binghe found a discarded one and mixed together some ink to use. The ink was no good for calligraphy, too watery and not pigmented enough for bold strokes, but it wrote upon his skin well enough.

With a head full of forming plans and a heart filled with warmth and elation, Luo Binghe talked with his Yuan-ge for another sichen before his soulmate said he had to sleep. 

“Good night, Bing-er.” Yuan-ge said, words filled with gentle care.

Luo Binghe beamed, excited to talk to Yuan-ge tomorrow, and the day after, and everyday for the rest of his life. 

“Good night, Yuan-ge.”

Part 3

[utilitycaster]

jumping off of that other ask: how do you think religion in Exandria should have been implemented?

honestly? I think this is the wrong question to ask. I think it is, ultimately, fine if religion in Exandria is only organized within the confines of Vasselheim and is otherwise a highly individualized affair; indeed, it even makes sense in a world where the gods can directly interact with their followers (even across the Divine Gate). In fact, the lack of organized religion now is a fascinating setup for it likely coming into existence in some form in the absence of that direct communication - like, every prime deity/betrayer god religion in Exandria is about to enter a cycle of once-per-lifespan messianic events. Some kind of organized practice will probably spring up around this!

My problem is that the PCs, to an extent, acted as though there were full religions in the world and that they were systems of oppression when that was never the case. So actually the implementation should have been taking Laura, Marisha, and Taliesin aside and being like "so your character's position is totally fine and valid! It is, objectively, exceptionally self-centered, in that you are basically just mad that you didn't get the benefits of a L20 cleric after calling up a god once or twice. Do you want to play them this way, or do you want to approach this differently?" And, of course, a lot of fans projected their own experience of religion as a vehicle for oppression - and to be clear, religion in our world frequently can be that- onto a world where that isn't the case. That's less preventable; you should never try to please the fans, let alone the dumbest fans.

On some level, however, a lot of the lore of C3 in the end failed to hold up to the plot of C3 and it wasn't even religion that was the problem. Like, Ruidus as a mystery and dark threat to the world was established before campaign 3, but the concept of Ruidusborn was rather weakly set up. The level of knowledge people had surrounding the Calamity and the gods varied wildly from "pretty decent" in C1-C2 to "what's an Asmodeus" in C3. Tharizdun was very much teased as a concept in C2 and now occupies a rather incoherent space of "it's on the same level as the primes and betrayers and was included among the betrayer gods whereas lesser deities are not; but it's also not The Divine Of Tengar and seen as food for Predathos (but the Raven Queen and presumably Vecna are); and also it's still shackled and THOSE shackles will apparently hold the OTHER devouring void without any problem even while the other gods are mortal and unaware of themselves and that's not an existential threat to be dealt with, it's fine to leave THAT bound," which thematically clashes with the entire story.

As a doorstopper fantasy fan/very casual comics fan/person who came to Dragon Age the Veilguard without much knowledge of the world to a fandom mad at a number of changes/person who has has a lot of critique of C3, this post says it more eloquently: in an ongoing work, sometimes you write yourself into corners and have to decide what to do about it. This is made even more complicated by actual play's unpredictable nature*. I think that Matt had a vision that the previous worldbuilding could have supported if the characters in C3 wanted to save the gods from the jump, but once they strayed from that the lore began to buckle under its own weight and here we are. So really it comes back to my point before: religion doesn't need to be implemented in Exandria and if it had been it should have been done in like, mid-C1, and as for how, that depends on the story Matt wanted to tell, but maybe he should have tried to tell a different one with Campaign 3 that was better supported by the lore we did have.

*to be clear I've already addressed why the "it's improv" defense fails to hold for Campaign 3 given that it failed to properly build on previous choices, but also, and I cannot stress this enough, the DM still makes the calls, and allowing a die roll (or not allowing a die roll), setting a poor DC, failing to establish something prior to a character asking about it, poor planning, and more are all poor choices that make for a weaker story. Actual play can in fact simply be bad, and nothing makes me immediately think you're stupid than trying to argue the mere possibility of criticism itself is invalid. Address the argument, accept that people will disagree with you, or leave; those are your options.

[naazaif327]

Just to be clear on the state of things:

The Betrayers decided to side with the Primordials and kill all the mortals They created with the Primes. A war was fought, many mortals were slaughtered, and the Betrayers were not killed but sealed away. The Betrayers spent aeons trapped, plotting and scheming to escape, until they finally did manage to get out, and this time they decided that they didn’t just want to kill all the mortals, but torture them for eternity. A Great War was fought, many mortals were slaughtered and tortured, cultures and innovations and landscapes were turned to ash, and the Prime Deities once again refused to kill their siblings and instead sealed them away.

The betrayers spent the next thousand years plotting and scheming to pull themselves back into the material plane so they could defeat their siblings and torture mortal souls for all eternity. They even came close at least a few times, like the Crawling King’s attempt in Campaign 2. They’re still trying to get out and torture mortals for all eternity, and assuming Predathos is stopped, they will spend the rest of eternity trying to get out and torture mortals forever. If they ever do get out, the Prime Deities will (maybe) try to stop them but they will not kill their siblings and will always pull their punches, even if it means mortals will suffer.

Amidst this, mortals built a GodKiller weapon that might���ve actually killed the Betrayers that were trying to slaughter and torture them forever. In response, the Primes teamed up with their siblings to squash the entire city of Aeor while scolding them for reaching too far.

Now obviously Ludinus sucks, but assuming Predathos doesn’t just eat everyone and kill the universe, then that kinda doesn’t really matter to me. They succeed at stopping Predathos and then they can kill Ludinus or put him in jail or torture him or do whatever they think is justice. OR they fail at stopping Predathos and the gods all die and then they can still kill Ludinus. Either way they get their revenge.

But like, what other chance will mortals ever get besides now to kill the Betrayers who want to torture them for all eternity? If anyone tries to rebuild the GodKiller weapon, the gods will either smite them down or get their clerics and paladins and angels to kill them and destroy the weapon. The Primes will never ever let mortals kill the Betrayers (much less themselves). What other chance besides this does Dorian and every other mortals who was harmed or tortured or murdered by the Gods have for justice? The Gods created us and then turned on us and tried (and are still trying) to hurt us and kill us, but if things go on as they were the Spider Queen will never have to answer to Dorian for killing his brother or stealing his friend, unlike Ludinus.

And forget justice or revenge, is humanity to spend eternity carrying on like there isn’t a cage full of snarling feral dogs desperate to rip us to pieces sitting in the other room? Dogs that have broken out before and will do so again? Do I think Predathos or Ludinus are the best way to fix this? No, but beggars can’t quite be choosers.

If I were a mortal in Exandria who was shown the events of Downfall, my opinion would be that if the Prime Deities were ever put in a trolley problem situation where they had to choose between saving all mortals or the Betrayers, they would choose the Betrayers. And if that were the case, then maybe in our own version of this ethical dilemma (where we could get rid of the Betrayers but the Primes had to die too) it wouldn’t be so wrong to put our own safety first and let these old, tired, wounded divinities finally rest.

[beyo-archives-and-shtuff]

Things You Don't Say pt 2

Ratchet didn't know what to expect when he stepped though that ground bridge back to Earth. His questions were soon answered though, eyebrows furrowed as his optics looked around the vicinity of what's in front of him. Jack and Miko unsurprisingly were the ones to greet him, which to be fair he had expected, but his worries were still present.

There near the center of Hangar E was a makeshift human sized medical bed where June Darby was standing. Ratchet could've sworn his spark had sunk down to his tank when he saw the young boy he had grown fond of on that very bed, skin as white as snow, eyes dark and sunken in all the wrong ways. Primus, was he still breathing?

He could hear Miko rambling, but he could not bother to comprehend any of it as he rushed forth to the patient. "By the AllSpark what happened?" Ratchet managed to croak out.

June didn't look at him, only stroking the boy's head with one hand while the other held her clipboard. "We've seen this before, haven't we, Doctor?" Ratchet continued to stare at the young boy, he was having difficulty breathing. Ratchet can feel the discomfort Raf was experiencing. "Dark energon" He said, almost wanting himself to be wrong, let it be a human ailment not a Cybertronian one. What went wrong? He had sent Raf away with a clear bill of health! Why now? "I was afraid you'd say that." June said, finally looking at him. "I came to the conclusion that it's like cancer," June paused, thinking of the weight of what she had said, furthermore wondering if Ratchet had any idea what that even is. "There's a chance it can come back, and most o the time, is uncurable." Ratchet closed his optics, helm hung low in thought. He's done this once, he'll do it again, no matter how many times Raf gets sick. He can't lose arguably one of his favorite humans, his friend. Let it be human's delicate mortality, not something foreign that he failed to fully get rid of. Ratchet turned around, going to his old spot in the base, still primed with his medical tools. Dusty, but nothing wiping won't fix. He held a syringe on his servo, looking at it and pausing. Would it work again? "We can try the method that has worked before," he said, gripping the syringe and raising his other arm, preparing to extract his own energon. It is the only logical explanation; dark energon must be expelled by its polar opposite. The lifeblood of Primus, sourced from a Cybertronian. Ratchet began extracting his own energon as he asked June to move Raf to a sealed chamber as he himself prepared to begin infusing it with Raf's. Ratchet gripped the lever, his frame tense. It must work. He thinks as he finally pulled down the lever, the chamber filling with a near blinding illuminating light. Time felt still, as if the gods themselves wanted to taunt them as they watched helplessly, waiting and hoping.

As the light dies down, everyone rushed forward, June and Ratchet taking the lead. "Did it work?" Miko asked, looking over Junes shoulder. Raf is like a little brother to her, seeing him like this would make even her on edge. "It's too early to tell Miko," Jack said, assisting his mother with the examination. "Well, it has to!" was the impatient reply. Raf was stirring, weakly the little boy opened his eyes. He looked tired, like the light had been taken away from his sweet eyes. "Mrs. June?" the little boy said weakly, voice dry. He was still pale, but he was awake. Something the humans were celebrating, a celebration Ratchet didn't partake in. As medical professionals, him and June know this is not the end, as much as he wants to breathe a sigh of relief that raf is safe, alive even, he has to do another examination.

Meanwhile, Raf was trying to look around, but he feels so tired, his head is hurting, and he can feel his temperatures hot as it touched the clothes and sheets wrapped around his body. He wanted to cry, but his fatigue wouldn't let him. He was getting uncomfortable from all the surrounding voices. They were his friends, yes, but right now he just wants for the world to go quiet. He wanted to rest, to stop hurting. His attention moved to the bracelet on his wrist, he misses his guardian. It's only been a few months, but he hasn't seen him since he left. "I miss Bee," he said, holding his wrist where the bracelet was placed. He was scared. What if he doesn't see Bee again? "We know Raf, we miss the others too." a voice said, but Raf couldn't recognize it. "I'm sure you will once you get better though, right, Ratchet?" Raf felt dizzier, his world spinning around, as he felt the growing need to vomit. He could hear something beeping, it annoyed him. He could feel the others moving around him, and he wanted them to stop, he whimpered, feeling sick again.

"Raf?" "Raf?!" "Ratchet?!" This time the voice was louder, Junes. The Cybertronian medic was frozen in place, his monitor blinking, his expression dark. He failed. He failed and he doesn't know why.

"It's not working..." Prev // Next As promised, @psychodelicvv tagging you for pt 2! Sorry if it's in text, I thought it would fit better for this one, albeit my writing skill isn't that good

lmk what you guys think though,,

[burnedelytra]

"Don't you DARE pin this all on me."

The being's tail lashed slightly behind them as Arbour watched the winged man with narrow teal eyes.

"You- They would never do that! I was one of their most trusted priests, and you took them away from me! You've been sheltering me from them this entire time- They're probably looking for me!"

Their words held enough bitterness to leave burns on their tounge as they hissed at the man, the person who stood before him one he'd once seen as a son. Arbour had been a high priest of Prime's, basically having become their child, but they'd placed them under Phil & Kristin's care for their own safety. They, of course, seemed to fail to even recognize this.

I don't care what you say anymore. I'm finding a way back to them, whether you like it or not."

- @watching-the-signs (our embed never works but you get the point lol)

<< ooc: context; in arbour's lore they were raised in a hybrid fight ring but were saved by Prime, they've devoted their life to them since, growing close enough for Prime to essentially view them as their mortal son. Prime recognized that their decisions were slowly becoming less rational, so they pushed them away and put them under Phil and Mumza's care for their own safety >>

"Son. I'm not" the words are bitter from the younger, his tail swishing angrily. Philza wings react in kind, they fluff up in an attempt to seem taller. Some instinct at the mere thought of a threat. Arbour wouldn't, couldn't hurt him. Surely it wouldn't go that far. "Arbour. Listen to me" he pleads but only receives more hurtful hisses in response. "It's not about what I want" the crow huffs. "It's what they want!" He finally admits. "Would I lie to you if it wasn't for your own good?"

[nuttytani]

His dear worshipper

pairing: zhongli x childe

fandom: genshin impact

summary: this story is about a mortal named Ajax, how he caught the attention of a certain god and made him fall in love.

warning: character death but temporary, has a happy ending

notes: ...... okay so..... runs away

“Will you tell me a bedtime story?” Ganyu turned in her bed, now looking at the older woman with hopeful eyes.

“Only if you promise to sleep afterwards,” Cloud Retainer said softly while tucking her in. 

“Pinky promise!” 

“Alright little one, mmmh… Yes, listen closely now.” 

.

Once upon a time, there lived a young mortal. His name was Ajax. 

Ajax the mortal had bright ginger hair that would sparkle under the sun’s light, skin as pale as snow with freckles adorning his rosy cheeks; like stars in the vast sky. He had eyes as deep as the uncharted ocean, and his lean body moved so fluid like a veil blowing in the wind. Most would agree that he was easy on the eyes and a delight to look at, but that’s not the focus of our story today. 

Every evening without a fail, he would bring offerings wrapped up in silk cloth and place it before the brass idol. Whose idol? you may ask. Well, Morax of course. 

Morax was the god of war, the god of commerce, the god of contracts and was the Prime of Adepti. Like any other god, he was worshipped and loved by many. Had temples dedicated to his individual titles, and they were decorated in gold, brass, copper, you name it! They were like a treasure trove and so blinding with everything shining from top to bottom. His temples were filled to the brim with knick knacks offered by his worshippers and followers alike, they could be fresh dumplings from a famous chef down the road, or a beautiful porcelain vase made specially in Inazuma, silk embroidered robes made and designed from Sumeru. But it wasn't the offerings that Morax was fond of, no. He was fond of these brave and resilient mortals. 

He was one of the few gods who was curious about how the tiny humans were able to face life, how they could unconditionally love each other, help one another and keep coming back strong and unwavering from the heavy waves of life that would keep toppling them over. 

Due to his curiosity towards them, Morax would descend personally from the heavens every decade and observe the land of mortals for a short time. It was then, during one of his descents, that he caught sight of a youth with bright orange hair with a radiant smile. He noticed that the ginger would place a single wild glaze lily, with a handful of berries and sunsettia. The few incense sticks next to the brass idol were set alight. There wasn’t anything unusual about the act, of course, but it was his prayers that caught the god off guard. 

“Dear Lord Morax, I offer you once again with some fruits and a flower. I hope you enjoy them,” the young man said and raised from his kneeling position. 

That’s it? 

Morax quirked his brows. 

Yes, that was it. The god found it strange, generally humans would make long prayers. Nothing he’s not used to. He’s heard many mortals asking for good health, fortune, kids, wishing for their daughters to be wed to a good husband, requesting him to make them knowledgeable enough to pass the imperial examination, and so on and so forth. 

Thus, he was surprised by the length of the young one’s prayer or…lack of. He didn’t ask for anything, only wishing for Morax to enjoy his offerings. Strange indeed. He thought to himself, he must keep a lookout on this one. To satiate his curiosity, he reasoned. 

. 

“What happened then, auntie?” whispered Ganyu, snuggling deeper into her warm blanket. 

“And then… Hmm… Morax would keep coming back to that old temple.” Warm hands brushed slowly through Ganyu’s hair. 

“And then?” the child asked, once more, now with sheer excitement. 

“Patience, Ganyu. Worry not, I will complete the story, but next time– ah ah! Don’t give me that puppy dog eyes look. It’s past your bedtime now,” Cloud Retainer let out a hearty chuckle, and pinched her cheeks. 

That earned an angry glare, though it looked too adorable to be called one. 

. 

Once upon a time, there lived a young mortal named Ajax. He would leave offerings at an old temple dedicated to Morax, a quaint rundown one, right in the outskirts of Liyue. He caught the attention of a certain god and that certain god would observe the strange mortal every evening, in time to see the ginger stroll in with his offerings wrapped in the same blue silk cloth. 

Morax forgot all about going back to the heavens. He was only supposed to spend a few days in the realm of humans, but it slipped out of his mind. He kept coming and coming and coming, looking at the youth with wonder. The boy would never ever wish for anything for himself, no. Only prayed for Morax to enjoy his prayers, though sometimes he would recount some silly happenings of his day. 

“Greetings, Lord Morax. Here are your offerings, I apologise but ahh– I wasn’t able to get a glaze lily today. Little Qiqi looked like she wanted it, and I let her have it. Have a qingxin instead,” the redhead chuckled sheepishly. 

“Apology accepted, my dear boy,” Morax replied in a hushed voice. He was standing right next to the mortal, of course, invisible to the other man. 

One thing to note, is that humans could not easily see or hear the gods, only if the gods wished to reveal themselves. Though for some reason, the youth’s eyes widened like saucers and his complexion paled…. As if he saw a ghost. It was not a ghost he saw, but a ghost he heard. Said ghost being a god but semantics. More importantly, was it even possible for him to look paler than he already was? Apparently yes. 

“Wh-wh-who’s there?” the boy sputtered, looking around the temple in panic. 

Of course, no one answered him. Though Morax did laugh at him in amusement. 

Either he heard Morax or it was the whispers of the wind. We shall never know as the human ran straight out of the temple, not even bothering to look back or to pick up his silk cloth. 

The next time the youth came back, he brought offerings wrapped around the hem of his robes. He looked warily around the temple before nodding to himself, finally taking a seat on the floor and lit the incense sticks. This time, he placed down two wild glaze lilies, and a couple of berries and sunsettias (as always).

“Good evening, Lord Morax. To make up for yesterday’s blunder, I’ve brought you two glaze lilies, your favourite. Last night I felt as if someone was speaking to me and I ran off… I’m sorry for that pitiful scene. I will make sure it never happens again, after all it was probably just the wind,” the youth rambled, recounting the incident from yesterday. 

It must have been the wind, Morax agreed. After all, the boy can only hear and see him only when the god wishes so. 

Once the mortal finished talking, he picked up his silken cloth. “Huh… Surely I didn’t leave this behind in such neat folds. Strange.”

Not strange at all, in actuality, Morax folded and placed it there personally. His thoughts however, were interrupted as someone hollered outside the gates of the temple.

“Brother Ajax, what’s taking you so long? Come now, let’s go back home.” A little girl in two little braids waved enthusiastically at the ginger. 

The boy looked back in surprise, walking hastily outside the temple to meet with the little girl. 

“Just a minute Tonia, I’m coming.” 

They chattered a bit before walking back home, holding hands and singing a tune. 

Morax watched them carefully and slowly emerged outside from his hiding spot, though useless because no one could see him. He was now in a trancelike state, rooted in one spot, still looking toward the duo. Ajax... 

So that was his name, how lovely. Fitting for a resilient little mortal, brave like a warrior that his name suggests. 

He smiled, molten gold eyes shimmering with wonder underneath the moon’s glow. 

.

“Wait, so all this time Morax never knew his name?” she questioned the older woman, with wide doe eyes.

“Yes, strange isn’t it? He was observing the boy for weeks now, nearing a month in fact… and he still didn’t know his name!” Cloud Retainer exclaimed and pushed her spectacles back on her nose. 

“Well then, good night. It is time to sleep now.”

“But…The story!”

“Tomorrow, my darling. That’s enough for today.” 

.

Once upon a time, there lived a young mortal named Ajax. He caught the attention of the god Morax. The god was so enamoured and curious about the boy, that he hadn’t gone back to the heavens in months now. 

His fellow friends became concerned about his absence. Perhaps something terrible happened, and the gods held an emergency meeting in the heavens. Making theories, wondering, panicking, pacing. Thus, the goddess of dust, Guizhong volunteered to descend to the realm of mortals to check up on Morax. Though the god of wind, Barbatos was adamant on joining with her. The goddess swiftly rejected him because of his tendency to “drink too much wine” whenever they would visit down there, and Guizhong was not going to drag his drunk body back up to the heavens. 

It didn’t take too long for the goddess of dust to find Morax, following his spiritual trail all the way to a rundown temple in the outskirts of Liyue. It surprised her to find her dear friend looking at a…redhead mortal with a warm expression. Is this the reason the other god had stayed in the mortal realm for so long? Guizhong walked quietly towards Morax and joined him in watching the mortal. 

“What brings you here,” Morax inquired, noticing her presence. 

“You. Why do you still remain here, you need to go back to the heavens, my friend,” whispered the goddess, as if scared to break the serene moment. 

“Well–”

“Obviously because of a pretty little mortal, he’s in love, Guizhong!” a shrilling voice spoke. Startled, the two looked back to see Barbatos, leaning against one of the railings of the temple. He took a cursory glance at Morax before sighing. 

“Pray tell, what brings you here?” Morax muttered under his breath. Not ecstatic to see Barbatos at all. 

“The same reason Guizhong– er– alright! Don’t give me that look. I was only curious about what Morax was up to, though now I regret coming hmph.” The green-haired god rolled his eyes.

“So, have you been ‘observing’ the moral all this time?” 

“Yes….”

“Not even speaking to him once?”

“...”

The silence spoke louder than words. 

“Morax, you must know that this behaviour is quite—”

.

“Cre– ahhhh-haaaaa– creepy! Why did he not say hello even once to Ajax?” yawned Ganyu, all cozied as she hugged her little crane plushie closer to her body.

“Well, Morax was known to have rocks for brains when he was younger,” Cloud Retainer stated, with no hesitancy in her words.

“That explains nothing….”

“Hush now, I’m turning the lights off.”

.

There was once a young redhead mortal named Ajax, he would visit an old rundown temple of the god Morax and give offerings daily. He had been visiting the temple since he was as young as a little sapling, so it was second nature for him to get the same flowers and fruits wrapped up in a silk blue cloth, walking on the same dusty path. The same old, same old. But his lonely routine was interrupted one fateful day.

Ajax met a breathtaking man, looking solemn in thoughts, staring off into the evening sky. The strange man stood near the entrance of the temple, turning around as he sensed the younger man’s presence and smiled. He was tall and lithe, with eyes bright like warm topaz, hair so long and dark that lit up in gold towards the end. Beautiful, is what anyone would describe him as, similar to a white jade. 

The boy could only smile back awkwardly and avert his eyes. Quickly making his way inside, trying to ignore the loud thumping of his heart. Though what he didn’t know was that the other man felt the same way. Many days passed and the beautiful man would always stand there by the entrance, as if waiting for Ajax and they would both enter the temple together. Eventually, they started speaking with one another rather than only exchanging pleasantries. 

That was also when the beautiful man (Morax’s mortal disguise) introduced himself by the name Zhongli. The boy felt embarrassed because he had forgotten to ask for his name, let alone share his own! To which the two laughed. 

Now they would both look forward to meeting each other, using the offerings as an excuse. Slowly but surely, they grew closer and their conversations would last throughout the night till dawn would arrive. Only then would they break away and go back and resume their daily lives. Their relationship bloomed, from mere strangers to close friends, and perhaps more than that but not exactly beyond it either. 

“Mister Zhongli, why do you choose to come here? It’s not exactly a well known or loved temple,” one day the boy asked.

“Perhaps I was entranced by someone who’d drop offerings to Lord Morax.” Zhongli smiled and glanced at the younger man. 

“I– Mister Zhongli! Don’t tease me so, please… I don’t like such jokes,” Ajax choked on his words, turning bright red similar to jueyun chilli.

“Who said that I was speaking in jest? It is the truth. You have me enamoured, my dear Ajax,” chuckling, the man tucked a stray piece of copper hair behind Ajax's ear. 

Oh, they were so close. Only a breath apart, the tips of their nose touching. They couldn’t dare to tear their eyes away from one another, waiting in patience. Waiting as the tiny gap between them grew small until– their lips bridged the final gap. The touch was featherlike, afraid of breaking the tranquil moment. Their eyes fluttered shut, casting shadows on their pale cheeks. A shy hand found its way to the boy’s until gaining confidence and their fingers intertwined. 

Needless to say, the two grew to love each other. 

However, remember that Morax was a god, even though he came to Ajax in his mortal disguise, that did not mean his responsibilities and obligations would vanish. He had to go back to the heavens and leave the realm of mortals for a while.

And so, Zhongli had to apologise to Ajax for not being able to meet for the coming days. It was temporary; he told the boy that he would come back and return to their routine of meeting and chattering. The boy didn’t mind at all and wished luck to Zhongli for his endeavours. 

The god finally returned to his rightful place in the heavens. There were a lot of things to be done, contracts to fulfil, humans to guide, battle against evil. He did none of it alone, of course, alongside him were his trusted gods helping him along the way. 

At last, a few months passed and Morax could finally descend to the human realm again. 

.

“Months? That’s a long time…I hope Ajax wasn’t lonely,” Ganyu interrupted, in a hushed tone. 

“Maybe he was, but Morax…Well, Zhongli did promise him, didn’t he?” 

“Mmhm. Granny Ping always tells me to keep promises.”

“That’s right, she has taught you well.”

. 

Morax took the form of his human disguise once again and waited for his lover by the entrance of the temple, as usual. Once the skies turned many shades of red, he saw the youth walking along the same path, with his offerings wrapped in a silk cloth in tow. 

The moment Ajax saw the lithe figure standing, he ran towards the man and jumped into his arms, almost making him stumble and fall on the ground. Almost. 

“I missed you Zhongli.”

“I missed you as well, my dear boy.” 

.

“And they married, happily ever after!” giggled Ganyu.

“No, there’s more to it. Now, my child, be thankful I didn’t leave you on a cliffhanger. I shall continue the rest tomorrow.” The raven haired woman grinned at her.

“What’s a cliffhanger?”

“It is basically when–”

.

Once upon a time, there lived a mortal named Ajax, he would always give offerings to Lord Morax’s lesser known temple. That is also where he fell deeply in love with a strange man called Zhongli, it was Morax’s human disguise, not that the boy had known. It was a secret to be kept, even from his lover. Fate is a funny thing indeed, when Morax descended to the human realm after so long, he did not expect to become so curious about a certain redhead, no he didn’t. Neither did he expect to become fond of the boy till he accidentally fell too hard and fast for him. 

Morax was happy, like a cat bathing under the warm rays of the sun. Happy to spend his days away with his precious lover, have meals with him, meet his family, talk with him, touch him, love him, admire him. He was extremely happy, one might say. Too happy in fact.

That it all came crumbling down on an unfortunate day. 

Ajax the mortal did not arrive at the temple on a particular evening. The god waited and waited, with no signs of the boy. He was worried, this had never happened before. The boy was diligent and never missed a day to give offerings, regardless of his busy or tiring day, regardless of his sick and unfeeling self. He never missed a day. 

And so, Zhongli set off to find his boy. Where was he? What happened to him, was he alright? 

His thoughts came to a screeching stop when he got closer towards the Harbour. There was a sizeable crowd of people, all panicking and yelling. He came closer, faintly able to see a boy laid in the centre of it all.

Then all he saw was red. 

There was a pool of blood and it was Ajax’s. His dear boy’s blood– his body laid cold against the hard brick street. 

His boy, his dear boy, his precious lover— was gutted with a knife.

Morax– Zhongli.. No did it even matter anymore? 

He fell on his knees scrambling towards the ginger. The crowd could only look in pity and whisper amongst each other as they observed the man hold the boy’s lifeless body in his arms and cried silent tears. 

A young child, who also seemed to be crying, patted him on the shoulder, “Qiqi gives mister a handkerchief. Don’t be sad, or Qiqi will be sad.”

Hearing that, the god could only wail as more tears of pain streamed down his face. 

His boy, his little worshipper, his dear Ajax–

.

“Now, don’t cry little one. It has a happy ending,” Cloud Retainer hushed Ganyu and wiped away the small tear dripping down her cheeks. 

“Pro-pro..mise?”

“Mmmhm, I do.”

“O-okay… I trust…auntie.”

.

Morax stood in front of Ajax’s resting site. He placed a lone wild glaze lily on top of his tomb. The god was never the same again, since the death of his beloved. Yes, he had witnessed deaths of his comrades throughout centuries and years, witnessed his people and worshippers alike succumbing to strange plagues and entire towns becoming a husk of its previous opulent self. Throughout his immortal life, Morax was not a stranger to death. It was something to accept. 

But this death was different. 

This death shook him to the core. So Morax left the heavens, taking off his mantle of responsibilities and started roaming the realm of mortals, looking for his dear boy, waiting for his precious. He promised himself to meet Ajax once again, no matter how long it took and no matter in what form he’d be. 

Just like that, a millennium of years passed as Morax tried mingling into the world of humans, calling himself Zhongli and changing his disguises once in a while so as not to cause suspicion. Mortals were quite skittish, if they noticed he wasn’t ageing as similar to them, they would be wary.   

As time passed, Morax was still on a quest to find the boy’s reincarnation. In search of the boy, however, the god was able to witness the growth of his people. Liyue had developed in terms of culture, religion, people, infrastructure over these past few years and he was proud of it. 

One day, as he was purchasing some freshly made bao from a vendor, he heard a snippet of conversation. 

“Grandpa, stop being stubborn and come back home!”

“I will! Just one match at the parlour and then I’ll go. Just one match,” the old man coughed, holding his walking stick tighter. 

“Oh ho, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice and shame on me! You’re going to stay there till someone wins against you. I know you so,” the younger scolded, hands on her waist as she admonished her grandpa. 

The vendor must have noticed him listening to the pair and so he chuckled, “An adorable pair aren’t they? Mr. Turov always does this. He’s fond of playing weiqi, you see.” 

Zhongli nodded in understanding and grabbed the parcel of baos from him. Now fully turning to carefully watch the pair. Then he noticed, the slightly washed out red of the hair, the same deep blue eyes and the same radiant smile. 

Ah. It’s him. It is his boy. He still looks handsome as ever, the sight made him smile. Zhongli must have been obvious in his staring at the man because he glanced at him and waved while beaming. Briefly introducing himself and his grandchild. 

.

Turns out, this was a frequent scene. Why did Zhongli not notice it before? Maybe he had always been there at the wrong place and time. Who knows? Eventually, he felt bad for the little one having to drag her stubborn old grandpa back home, and offered to play weiqi with him at their home (to which the two happily agreed).

Mr. Ajax Turov was in fact a fantastic weiqi player, and he was glad to have found someone as good and perhaps even better than him. He was having fun after many years of playing; it was the first time that a youngster made him lose so quickly. 

“Oh, hmm… I lost. I look forward to a rematch now!” 

Rematch he got indeed. Every afternoon, Zhongli would drop by the old man’s house and play weiqi for hours on end, drink tea and talk plenty. It was easy to get into this sweet and lax routine, the two would look forward to it daily. Mr. Turov would sit on his bamboo chair, newspaper in hand and keep glancing towards the fenced gate. Zhongli would soon arrive, with fresh scallion pancakes or fried pork dumplings in tow, to match their tea of course. Who drinks tea without snacks in hand? Though he never had to bring any as Mr. Turov’s grandchildren and kids would drop snacks in brief intervals of their matches. The family knew their tendency to sit for long and play and they were delighted to see the old man having fun after so long. 

They were close friends now, and Mr. Turov would invite him over for dinners. Much to his family’s pleasure, they loved the young man, and they were glad that someone would be there to keep their lonely grandpa Ajax company. 

Years passed and the old man grew weaker and weaker, but his radiant personality never dulled. He’d still wait by the chair in his lawn, reading the newspaper while drinking tea. Zhongli would still come over to play and stay the night.

Unfortunately, like any life, his too came to an end. It was a peaceful one at least, Zhongli felt relieved. His funeral was a quaint affair. His old friends, family and acquaintances paid their respects. In the end, only Zhongli was left to bid his bye. He stood near the casket and sighed shakily. Taking a peek to see his boy smiling even in death. Placing a lone glaze lily on his precious heart, he left. 

Once again, the cycle of reincarnation repeated itself, a few hundred years later. Ajax took birth in a monastery this time, Zhongli found out. This also meant that he could not frequent the monastery and meet with the boy whenever he wished so, but he found a loophole. This time, the god disguised himself as a stray black cat. Sneaky, but it worked. 

He watched the boy grow from a tiny sapling to a young teen, regularly dropping by the temple (practically lived there) and playing with him. Sometimes even annoying him, whenever the mortal would try to concentrate and meditate. 

“Hm- Not now. I’m busy,” Ajax grumbled.

“Mrrooowwwww.” 

“Come on, stop disturbing– OUCH! Hey! That was rude Rex!” The boy looked at him with furrowed brows.

“Mmeeeeeoowwwwwww hmph.” Rex the cat with an offended look, turned away and padded off. 

“Awe! You can stay— don’t go!”

.

The monastery was dedicated to Lord Morax and thus, once again, Ajax continued providing offerings (as he did in his once previous life). The offerings would keep disappearing, particularly the ones provided by Ajax. All the elder monks found it strange but brushed it off as Lord Morax being the one eating it during the night. That theory came to a stop once the boy, Ajax, found the cat, Rex, snatching the offerings from the altar that had an enormous dragon statue.

“Stop! Rex, bad kitty! NO! Drop them,” the boy yelled trying to grab hold of the cat.

Rex hissed and scratched at Ajax’s hand and ran way. 

These are for him anyway, why should he stop from taking his own offerings? The god thought to himself and huffed while munching on the offerings. 

The next day, the entire monastery found out the secret behind the vanishing offerings. They didn’t mind of course; they had a rough idea who that cat was. After all, they say that Morax can shapeshift to anything but his cor lapis eyes were the one thing that he couldn’t change. 

. 

And so, another lifetime passed. Soon after, the boy took birth once again.

He was a prince this time. A precious sweetheart loved by all. Brave, strong, beautiful and knowledgeable. Prince Ajax was known to be a helpful person, always catering to those in need. He could never see someone suffering from pain, be it literal or metaphorical. Some labelled him to have a heart of gold, that would get him in trouble one day. 

Prince Ajax would often put on a commoner’s disguise to venture outside of the palace walls, without the emperor and empress knowing. It was to experience life he said, to see the troubles of his people and to see sights the nation had to offer. 

Venture he did indeed. Strolling along a dusty path on the outskirts of Liyue, it led to an old rundown temple. He passed through the entrance and went inside to see a brass idol of Lord Morax in the centre. For some reason, it felt so familiar and right for him to be there. Caught in a stupor, Prince Ajax simply stared at the idol in a daze. 

It was then, that the god, in his own human disguise walked in to find his boy, once more. He did not expect to meet him in such a way, not when he was a prince now. 

“Are you alright?” Morax asked, right behind the mortal. 

The boy turned in surprise, his deep blue eyes widened and stared at him, unmoving. He was lost in those amber eyes while a million thoughts ran through his mind. 

“Your highness?” Morax now furrowed his brows in concern, why was the boy so quiet, did something happen?  

“Ah apologies, I’m alright. It’s just… You looked really familiar.” Sheepishly he rubbed his head.  

Oh. So his boy remembers. Or at least his soul does. 

The youth opened his mouth to speak again, “But how did you–”

“There is only one man in the nation with bright hair and blue eyes like yours,” Morax chuckled. His naive little boy. Precious boy. 

“I see…My disguise must be quite poor then. I’m quite embarrassed,” the prince sighed, “Well then, please just call me Ajax!”

“Ajax…” the god mumbled, feeling a sense of déjà vu, ”Well dear Ajax, I am Zhongli.”

And so, they became friends.

.

From then on, Ajax would sneak out of the palace walls every night, to the rundown temple. It felt like strings of fate begging at him, pulling at him to go. And who was he to deny them? So he went with offerings in tow, wrapped in a silk blue cloth. Because it felt right. 

Zhongli would wait for the boy by the entrance of the temple, reminiscing about the past. Once Ajax would arrive, they would both go inside, unwrap the offerings that contained a single wild glaze lily, some berries and sunsettia. Placing it before the brass idol.

They would sit on the floor and chat. It felt right. It just did. Hours would pass till the starry sky would change its colours and welcome the sun peeking from behind the mountains. The little mortal would then dash back to the palace, promising Zhongli that he’d come back the next day. It was a routine. A comforting one. 

Months passed, and Ajax would still sneak out of his palace, with offerings in tow. Walk down the same dusty path as he did previously and wave at the long-haired man to catch his attention. 

The two would call each other soulmates. As the world felt appropriate since whenever they were in each other’s presence, they would feel complete, warm and at peace. The boy would say that whenever he looked at Zhongli, he would feel indescribably happy and bubbly. And even though he had never seen the man before in his life, he felt as if he’d known him for many many years. It was fate; they concluded. Fate that brought them together. Yes. 

One day however, he had a strange encounter. Right after the little mortal sneaked out of the palace, he would always stop by a lake to wash his face and hands. This time, a blinding flash of light emerged from where he was standing, startled he fell on his back. 

A body took shape in front of him, of a woman no less. Slowly, the light subsided and he could finally see. It was the goddess of dust, Guizhong. In all her bright and silvery glory. As soon as he realised, the boy bowed down haphazardly. 

“Rise, my child,” said the goddess, as she tipped the ginger’s face upwards to meet her grey eyes. 

“I dare not, goddess, lest I disrespect you,” he mumbled and averted his eyes.

“Fear not, little mortal. I am not here to punish you, in fact I am here to reward you,” she chuckled, eyes crinkling in delight. 

To which, the boy looked at her at last in curiosity. She took this as a chance and continued, “The heavens are impressed by your devotion and they have decided to give you a boon. Ask away, my child. What do you wish for?”

The boy was stumped. A boon? But he has done nothing worthy in his life, so why? 

Guizhong replied as if reading his mind, “Throughout your many previous lives including this one, your good deeds, offerings and deep meditation tallied up. Therefore, you are given a chance to ask for anything you want.”

“But I want nothing… I need nothing, goddess Guizhong. I only hope to be with Zhongli forever,” Ajax declared instantly. 

What he didn’t realise was his choice of words.

“Very well, you shall spend eternity with Zhongli, and so, I bless you with immortality,” the goddess spoke in finality and placed her hand on the boy’s head. 

His body shone like a million stars had occupied his body until it disappeared. Memories of his many past lives flashed through his mind at a frenzied speed, he did not even realise drops of tears rolling down his cheeks until the goddess gently wiped through them all. 

“Hush my child, go now, your Zhongli is waiting for you. He has been looking over you in every single life you lived. It is nigh time that he reveals his true self today.” Smiling, she pulled Ajax up and sent him on his way to the temple. 

Slowly, the boy made his way to the temple and saw the brunet standing by the entrance as always. He ran into Zhongli’s arms, colliding with such great force that it almost took the breath out of the man’s chest. 

“What happened, my dear boy?”

“Mister Zhongli…. I remember now, everything. Every life. All the forms you took.” The ginger hid his face under the nook of the older man’s shoulder. 

Zhongli rubbed the boy’s back until he calmed down, gazing at him with warmth. 

“Even if you did not, I would still love you,” he whispered against the boy’s hair. 

.

“Happily ever after? Did they get married?” Ganyu asked at last, barely able to keep her eyes open. 

“Yes indeed. And Zhongli revealed his identity to Ajax, to which the boy wasn’t surprised. Saying he was quite obvious about it and with Ajax’s immortality, they now spend eternity with each other,” Cloud Retainer announced at last, “The end.”

“So, what do you think of this story?”

Sadly, Ganyu had been fast asleep by the time the raven haired woman asked her. With an exasperated sigh, she readjusted the blankets and turned the lights off, wishing her good night before leaving the room. 

Bonus scene 

Ganyu was excited when she heard that her uncle, Zhongli, would come with his spouse to dinner. It would be her first time seeing the person that turned her uncle into a blushing schoolgirl. What she didn’t expect was the bright ginger hair, deep abyssal eyes and a radiant smile. For some reason, her uncle’s spouse looked very familiar, except she just couldn’t place her finger on it. 

“Hello Ganyu, nice to meet you! My name is Ajax,” Uncle Zhongli's lover introduced himself. 

“Ajax? That’s a nice name, it reminds me of the little mortal from the story my auntie told me! He also has red hair and blue eyes, just like you.” Beamed Ganyu, looking at the man with sparkling eyes. 

“Will you tell me a bedtime story?” Ganyu turned in her bed, now looking at the older woman with hopeful eyes.

“Only if you promise to sleep afterwards,” Cloud Retainer said softly while tucking her in. 

“Pinky promise!” 

“Alright little one, mmmh… Yes, listen closely now.” 

.

Once upon a time, there lived a young mortal. His name was Ajax. 

Ajax the mortal had bright ginger hair that would sparkle under the sun’s light, skin as pale as snow with freckles adorning his rosy cheeks; like stars in the vast sky. He had eyes as deep as the uncharted ocean, and his lean body moved so fluid like a veil blowing in the wind. Most would agree that he was easy on the eyes and a delight to look at, but that’s not the focus of our story today. 

Every evening without a fail, he would bring offerings wrapped up in silk cloth and place it before the brass idol. Whose idol? you may ask. Well, Morax of course. 

Morax was the god of war, the god of commerce, the god of contracts and was the Prime of Adepti. Like any other god, he was worshipped and loved by many. Had temples dedicated to his individual titles, and they were decorated in gold, brass, copper, you name it! They were like a treasure trove and so blinding with everything shining from top to bottom. His temples were filled to the brim with knick knacks offered by his worshippers and followers alike, they could be fresh dumplings from a famous chef down the road, or a beautiful porcelain vase made specially in Inazuma, silk embroidered robes made and designed from Sumeru. But it wasn't the offerings that Morax was fond of, no. He was fond of these brave and resilient mortals. 

He was one of the few gods who was curious about how the tiny humans were able to face life, how they could unconditionally love each other, help one another and keep coming back strong and unwavering from the heavy waves of life that would keep toppling them over. 

Due to his curiosity towards them, Morax would descend personally from the heavens every decade and observe the land of mortals for a short time. It was then, during one of his descents, that he caught sight of a youth with bright orange hair with a radiant smile. He noticed that the ginger would place a single wild glaze lily, with a handful of berries and sunsettia. The few incense sticks next to the brass idol were set alight. There wasn’t anything unusual about the act, of course, but it was his prayers that caught the god off guard. 

“Dear Lord Morax, I offer you once again with some fruits and a flower. I hope you enjoy them,” the young man said and raised from his kneeling position. 

That’s it? 

Morax quirked his brows. 

Yes, that was it. The god found it strange, generally humans would make long prayers. Nothing he’s not used to. He’s heard many mortals asking for good health, fortune, kids, wishing for their daughters to be wed to a good husband, requesting him to make them knowledgeable enough to pass the imperial examination, and so on and so forth. 

Thus, he was surprised by the length of the young one’s prayer or…lack of. He didn’t ask for anything, only wishing for Morax to enjoy his offerings. Strange indeed. He thought to himself, he must keep a lookout on this one. To satiate his curiosity, he reasoned. 

. 

“What happened then, auntie?” whispered Ganyu, snuggling deeper into her warm blanket. 

“And then… Hmm… Morax would keep coming back to that old temple.” Warm hands brushed slowly through Ganyu’s hair. 

“And then?” the child asked, once more, now with sheer excitement. 

“Patience, Ganyu. Worry not, I will complete the story, but next time– ah ah! Don’t give me that puppy dog eyes look. It’s past your bedtime now,” Cloud Retainer let out a hearty chuckle, and pinched her cheeks. 

That earned an angry glare, though it looked too adorable to be called one. 

. 

Once upon a time, there lived a young mortal named Ajax. He would leave offerings at an old temple dedicated to Morax, a quaint rundown one, right in the outskirts of Liyue. He caught the attention of a certain god and that certain god would observe the strange mortal every evening, in time to see the ginger stroll in with his offerings wrapped in the same blue silk cloth. 

Morax forgot all about going back to the heavens. He was only supposed to spend a few days in the realm of humans, but it slipped out of his mind. He kept coming and coming and coming, looking at the youth with wonder. The boy would never ever wish for anything for himself, no. Only prayed for Morax to enjoy his prayers, though sometimes he would recount some silly happenings of his day. 

“Greetings, Lord Morax. Here are your offerings, I apologise but ahh– I wasn’t able to get a glaze lily today. Little Qiqi looked like she wanted it, and I let her have it. Have a qingxin instead,” the redhead chuckled sheepishly. 

“Apology accepted, my dear boy,” Morax replied in a hushed voice. He was standing right next to the mortal, of course, invisible to the other man. 

One thing to note, is that humans could not easily see or hear the gods, only if the gods wished to reveal themselves. Though for some reason, the youth’s eyes widened like saucers and his complexion paled…. As if he saw a ghost. It was not a ghost he saw, but a ghost he heard. Said ghost being a god but semantics. More importantly, was it even possible for him to look paler than he already was? Apparently yes. 

“Wh-wh-who’s there?” the boy sputtered, looking around the temple in panic. 

Of course, no one answered him. Though Morax did laugh at him in amusement. 

Either he heard Morax or it was the whispers of the wind. We shall never know as the human ran straight out of the temple, not even bothering to look back or to pick up his silk cloth. 

The next time the youth came back, he brought offerings wrapped around the hem of his robes. He looked warily around the temple before nodding to himself, finally taking a seat on the floor and lit the incense sticks. This time, he placed down two wild glaze lilies, and a couple of berries and sunsettias (as always).

“Good evening, Lord Morax. To make up for yesterday’s blunder, I’ve brought you two glaze lilies, your favourite. Last night I felt as if someone was speaking to me and I ran off… I’m sorry for that pitiful scene. I will make sure it never happens again, after all it was probably just the wind,” the youth rambled, recounting the incident from yesterday. 

It must have been the wind, Morax agreed. After all, the boy can only hear and see him only when the god wishes so. 

Once the mortal finished talking, he picked up his silken cloth. “Huh… Surely I didn’t leave this behind in such neat folds. Strange.”

Not strange at all, in actuality, Morax folded and placed it there personally. His thoughts however, were interrupted as someone hollered outside the gates of the temple.

“Brother Ajax, what’s taking you so long? Come now, let’s go back home.” A little girl in two little braids waved enthusiastically at the ginger. 

The boy looked back in surprise, walking hastily outside the temple to meet with the little girl. 

“Just a minute Tonia, I’m coming.” 

They chattered a bit before walking back home, holding hands and singing a tune. 

Morax watched them carefully and slowly emerged outside from his hiding spot, though useless because no one could see him. He was now in a trancelike state, rooted in one spot, still looking toward the duo. Ajax... 

So that was his name, how lovely. Fitting for a resilient little mortal, brave like a warrior that his name suggests. 

He smiled, molten gold eyes shimmering with wonder underneath the moon’s glow. 

.

“Wait, so all this time Morax never knew his name?” she questioned the older woman, with wide doe eyes.

“Yes, strange isn’t it? He was observing the boy for weeks now, nearing a month in fact… and he still didn’t know his name!” Cloud Retainer exclaimed and pushed her spectacles back on her nose. 

“Well then, good night. It is time to sleep now.”

“But…The story!”

“Tomorrow, my darling. That’s enough for today.” 

.

Once upon a time, there lived a young mortal named Ajax. He caught the attention of the god Morax. The god was so enamoured and curious about the boy, that he hadn’t gone back to the heavens in months now. 

His fellow friends became concerned about his absence. Perhaps something terrible happened, and the gods held an emergency meeting in the heavens. Making theories, wondering, panicking, pacing. Thus, the goddess of dust, Guizhong volunteered to descend to the realm of mortals to check up on Morax. Though the god of wind, Barbatos was adamant on joining with her. The goddess swiftly rejected him because of his tendency to “drink too much wine” whenever they would visit down there, and Guizhong was not going to drag his drunk body back up to the heavens. 

It didn’t take too long for the goddess of dust to find Morax, following his spiritual trail all the way to a rundown temple in the outskirts of Liyue. It surprised her to find her dear friend looking at a…redhead mortal with a warm expression. Is this the reason the other god had stayed in the mortal realm for so long? Guizhong walked quietly towards Morax and joined him in watching the mortal. 

“What brings you here,” Morax inquired, noticing her presence. 

“You. Why do you still remain here, you need to go back to the heavens, my friend,” whispered the goddess, as if scared to break the serene moment. 

“Well–”

“Obviously because of a pretty little mortal, he’s in love, Guizhong!” a shrilling voice spoke. Startled, the two looked back to see Barbatos, leaning against one of the railings of the temple. He took a cursory glance at Morax before sighing. 

“Pray tell, what brings you here?” Morax muttered under his breath. Not ecstatic to see Barbatos at all. 

“The same reason Guizhong– er– alright! Don’t give me that look. I was only curious about what Morax was up to, though now I regret coming hmph.” The green-haired god rolled his eyes.

“So, have you been ‘observing’ the moral all this time?” 

“Yes….”

“Not even speaking to him once?”

“...”

The silence spoke louder than words. 

“Morax, you must know that this behaviour is quite—”

.

“Cre– ahhhh-haaaaa– creepy! Why did he not say hello even once to Ajax?” yawned Ganyu, all cozied as she hugged her little crane plushie closer to her body.

“Well, Morax was known to have rocks for brains when he was younger,” Cloud Retainer stated, with no hesitancy in her words.

“That explains nothing….”

“Hush now, I’m turning the lights off.”

.

There was once a young redhead mortal named Ajax, he would visit an old rundown temple of the god Morax and give offerings daily. He had been visiting the temple since he was as young as a little sapling, so it was second nature for him to get the same flowers and fruits wrapped up in a silk blue cloth, walking on the same dusty path. The same old, same old. But his lonely routine was interrupted one fateful day.

Ajax met a breathtaking man, looking solemn in thoughts, staring off into the evening sky. The strange man stood near the entrance of the temple, turning around as he sensed the younger man’s presence and smiled. He was tall and lithe, with eyes bright like warm topaz, hair so long and dark that lit up in gold towards the end. Beautiful, is what anyone would describe him as, similar to a white jade. 

The boy could only smile back awkwardly and avert his eyes. Quickly making his way inside, trying to ignore the loud thumping of his heart. Though what he didn’t know was that the other man felt the same way. Many days passed and the beautiful man would always stand there by the entrance, as if waiting for Ajax and they would both enter the temple together. Eventually, they started speaking with one another rather than only exchanging pleasantries. 

That was also when the beautiful man (Morax’s mortal disguise) introduced himself by the name Zhongli. The boy felt embarrassed because he had forgotten to ask for his name, let alone share his own! To which the two laughed. 

Now they would both look forward to meeting each other, using the offerings as an excuse. Slowly but surely, they grew closer and their conversations would last throughout the night till dawn would arrive. Only then would they break away and go back and resume their daily lives. Their relationship bloomed, from mere strangers to close friends, and perhaps more than that but not exactly beyond it either. 

“Mister Zhongli, why do you choose to come here? It’s not exactly a well known or loved temple,” one day the boy asked.

“Perhaps I was entranced by someone who’d drop offerings to Lord Morax.” Zhongli smiled and glanced at the younger man. 

“I– Mister Zhongli! Don’t tease me so, please… I don’t like such jokes,” Ajax choked on his words, turning bright red similar to jueyun chilli.

“Who said that I was speaking in jest? It is the truth. You have me enamoured, my dear Ajax,” chuckling, the man tucked a stray piece of copper hair behind Ajax's ear. 

Oh, they were so close. Only a breath apart, the tips of their nose touching. They couldn’t dare to tear their eyes away from one another, waiting in patience. Waiting as the tiny gap between them grew small until– their lips bridged the final gap. The touch was featherlike, afraid of breaking the tranquil moment. Their eyes fluttered shut, casting shadows on their pale cheeks. A shy hand found its way to the boy’s until gaining confidence and their fingers intertwined. 

Needless to say, the two grew to love each other. 

However, remember that Morax was a god, even though he came to Ajax in his mortal disguise, that did not mean his responsibilities and obligations would vanish. He had to go back to the heavens and leave the realm of mortals for a while.

And so, Zhongli had to apologise to Ajax for not being able to meet for the coming days. It was temporary; he told the boy that he would come back and return to their routine of meeting and chattering. The boy didn’t mind at all and wished luck to Zhongli for his endeavours. 

The god finally returned to his rightful place in the heavens. There were a lot of things to be done, contracts to fulfil, humans to guide, battle against evil. He did none of it alone, of course, alongside him were his trusted gods helping him along the way. 

At last, a few months passed and Morax could finally descend to the human realm again. 

.

“Months? That’s a long time…I hope Ajax wasn’t lonely,” Ganyu interrupted, in a hushed tone. 

“Maybe he was, but Morax…Well, Zhongli did promise him, didn’t he?” 

“Mmhm. Granny Ping always tells me to keep promises.”

“That’s right, she has taught you well.”

. 

Morax took the form of his human disguise once again and waited for his lover by the entrance of the temple, as usual. Once the skies turned many shades of red, he saw the youth walking along the same path, with his offerings wrapped in a silk cloth in tow. 

The moment Ajax saw the lithe figure standing, he ran towards the man and jumped into his arms, almost making him stumble and fall on the ground. Almost. 

“I missed you Zhongli.”

“I missed you as well, my dear boy.” 

.

“And they married, happily ever after!” giggled Ganyu.

“No, there’s more to it. Now, my child, be thankful I didn’t leave you on a cliffhanger. I shall continue the rest tomorrow.” The raven haired woman grinned at her.

“What’s a cliffhanger?”

“It is basically when–”

.

Once upon a time, there lived a mortal named Ajax, he would always give offerings to Lord Morax’s lesser known temple. That is also where he fell deeply in love with a strange man called Zhongli, it was Morax’s human disguise, not that the boy had known. It was a secret to be kept, even from his lover. Fate is a funny thing indeed, when Morax descended to the human realm after so long, he did not expect to become so curious about a certain redhead, no he didn’t. Neither did he expect to become fond of the boy till he accidentally fell too hard and fast for him. 

Morax was happy, like a cat bathing under the warm rays of the sun. Happy to spend his days away with his precious lover, have meals with him, meet his family, talk with him, touch him, love him, admire him. He was extremely happy, one might say. Too happy in fact.

That it all came crumbling down on an unfortunate day. 

Ajax the mortal did not arrive at the temple on a particular evening. The god waited and waited, with no signs of the boy. He was worried, this had never happened before. The boy was diligent and never missed a day to give offerings, regardless of his busy or tiring day, regardless of his sick and unfeeling self. He never missed a day. 

And so, Zhongli set off to find his boy. Where was he? What happened to him, was he alright? 

His thoughts came to a screeching stop when he got closer towards the Harbour. There was a sizeable crowd of people, all panicking and yelling. He came closer, faintly able to see a boy laid in the centre of it all.

Then all he saw was red. 

There was a pool of blood and it was Ajax’s. His dear boy’s blood– his body laid cold against the hard brick street. 

His boy, his dear boy, his precious lover— was gutted with a knife.

Morax– Zhongli.. No did it even matter anymore? 

He fell on his knees scrambling towards the ginger. The crowd could only look in pity and whisper amongst each other as they observed the man hold the boy’s lifeless body in his arms and cried silent tears. 

A young child, who also seemed to be crying, patted him on the shoulder, “Qiqi gives mister a handkerchief. Don’t be sad, or Qiqi will be sad.”

Hearing that, the god could only wail as more tears of pain streamed down his face. 

His boy, his little worshipper, his dear Ajax–

.

“Now, don’t cry little one. It has a happy ending,” Cloud Retainer hushed Ganyu and wiped away the small tear dripping down her cheeks. 

“Pro-pro..mise?”

“Mmmhm, I do.”

“O-okay… I trust…auntie.”

.

Morax stood in front of Ajax’s resting site. He placed a lone wild glaze lily on top of his tomb. The god was never the same again, since the death of his beloved. Yes, he had witnessed deaths of his comrades throughout centuries and years, witnessed his people and worshippers alike succumbing to strange plagues and entire towns becoming a husk of its previous opulent self. Throughout his immortal life, Morax was not a stranger to death. It was something to accept. 

But this death was different. 

This death shook him to the core. So Morax left the heavens, taking off his mantle of responsibilities and started roaming the realm of mortals, looking for his dear boy, waiting for his precious. He promised himself to meet Ajax once again, no matter how long it took and no matter in what form he’d be. 

Just like that, a millennium of years passed as Morax tried mingling into the world of humans, calling himself Zhongli and changing his disguises once in a while so as not to cause suspicion. Mortals were quite skittish, if they noticed he wasn’t ageing as similar to them, they would be wary.   

As time passed, Morax was still on a quest to find the boy’s reincarnation. In search of the boy, however, the god was able to witness the growth of his people. Liyue had developed in terms of culture, religion, people, infrastructure over these past few years and he was proud of it. 

One day, as he was purchasing some freshly made bao from a vendor, he heard a snippet of conversation. 

“Grandpa, stop being stubborn and come back home!”

“I will! Just one match at the parlour and then I’ll go. Just one match,” the old man coughed, holding his walking stick tighter. 

“Oh ho, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice and shame on me! You’re going to stay there till someone wins against you. I know you so,” the younger scolded, hands on her waist as she admonished her grandpa. 

The vendor must have noticed him listening to the pair and so he chuckled, “An adorable pair aren’t they? Mr. Turov always does this. He’s fond of playing weiqi, you see.” 

Zhongli nodded in understanding and grabbed the parcel of baos from him. Now fully turning to carefully watch the pair. Then he noticed, the slightly washed out red of the hair, the same deep blue eyes and the same radiant smile. 

Ah. It’s him. It is his boy. He still looks handsome as ever, the sight made him smile. Zhongli must have been obvious in his staring at the man because he glanced at him and waved while beaming. Briefly introducing himself and his grandchild. 

.

Turns out, this was a frequent scene. Why did Zhongli not notice it before? Maybe he had always been there at the wrong place and time. Who knows? Eventually, he felt bad for the little one having to drag her stubborn old grandpa back home, and offered to play weiqi with him at their home (to which the two happily agreed).

Mr. Ajax Turov was in fact a fantastic weiqi player, and he was glad to have found someone as good and perhaps even better than him. He was having fun after many years of playing; it was the first time that a youngster made him lose so quickly. 

“Oh, hmm… I lost. I look forward to a rematch now!” 

Rematch he got indeed. Every afternoon, Zhongli would drop by the old man’s house and play weiqi for hours on end, drink tea and talk plenty. It was easy to get into this sweet and lax routine, the two would look forward to it daily. Mr. Turov would sit on his bamboo chair, newspaper in hand and keep glancing towards the fenced gate. Zhongli would soon arrive, with fresh scallion pancakes or fried pork dumplings in tow, to match their tea of course. Who drinks tea without snacks in hand? Though he never had to bring any as Mr. Turov’s grandchildren and kids would drop snacks in brief intervals of their matches. The family knew their tendency to sit for long and play and they were delighted to see the old man having fun after so long. 

They were close friends now, and Mr. Turov would invite him over for dinners. Much to his family’s pleasure, they loved the young man, and they were glad that someone would be there to keep their lonely grandpa Ajax company. 

Years passed and the old man grew weaker and weaker, but his radiant personality never dulled. He’d still wait by the chair in his lawn, reading the newspaper while drinking tea. Zhongli would still come over to play and stay the night.

Unfortunately, like any life, his too came to an end. It was a peaceful one at least, Zhongli felt relieved. His funeral was a quaint affair. His old friends, family and acquaintances paid their respects. In the end, only Zhongli was left to bid his bye. He stood near the casket and sighed shakily. Taking a peek to see his boy smiling even in death. Placing a lone glaze lily on his precious heart, he left. 

Once again, the cycle of reincarnation repeated itself, a few hundred years later. Ajax took birth in a monastery this time, Zhongli found out. This also meant that he could not frequent the monastery and meet with the boy whenever he wished so, but he found a loophole. This time, the god disguised himself as a stray black cat. Sneaky, but it worked. 

He watched the boy grow from a tiny sapling to a young teen, regularly dropping by the temple (practically lived there) and playing with him. Sometimes even annoying him, whenever the mortal would try to concentrate and meditate. 

“Hm- Not now. I’m busy,” Ajax grumbled.

“Mrrooowwwww.” 

“Come on, stop disturbing– OUCH! Hey! That was rude Rex!” The boy looked at him with furrowed brows.

“Mmeeeeeoowwwwwww hmph.” Rex the cat with an offended look, turned away and padded off. 

“Awe! You can stay— don’t go!”

.

The monastery was dedicated to Lord Morax and thus, once again, Ajax continued providing offerings (as he did in his once previous life). The offerings would keep disappearing, particularly the ones provided by Ajax. All the elder monks found it strange but brushed it off as Lord Morax being the one eating it during the night. That theory came to a stop once the boy, Ajax, found the cat, Rex, snatching the offerings from the altar that had an enormous dragon statue.

“Stop! Rex, bad kitty! NO! Drop them,” the boy yelled trying to grab hold of the cat.

Rex hissed and scratched at Ajax’s hand and ran way. 

These are for him anyway, why should he stop from taking his own offerings? The god thought to himself and huffed while munching on the offerings. 

The next day, the entire monastery found out the secret behind the vanishing offerings. They didn’t mind of course; they had a rough idea who that cat was. After all, they say that Morax can shapeshift to anything but his cor lapis eyes were the one thing that he couldn’t change. 

. 

And so, another lifetime passed. Soon after, the boy took birth once again.

He was a prince this time. A precious sweetheart loved by all. Brave, strong, beautiful and knowledgeable. Prince Ajax was known to be a helpful person, always catering to those in need. He could never see someone suffering from pain, be it literal or metaphorical. Some labelled him to have a heart of gold, that would get him in trouble one day. 

Prince Ajax would often put on a commoner’s disguise to venture outside of the palace walls, without the emperor and empress knowing. It was to experience life he said, to see the troubles of his people and to see sights the nation had to offer. 

Venture he did indeed. Strolling along a dusty path on the outskirts of Liyue, it led to an old rundown temple. He passed through the entrance and went inside to see a brass idol of Lord Morax in the centre. For some reason, it felt so familiar and right for him to be there. Caught in a stupor, Prince Ajax simply stared at the idol in a daze. 

It was then, that the god, in his own human disguise walked in to find his boy, once more. He did not expect to meet him in such a way, not when he was a prince now. 

“Are you alright?” Morax asked, right behind the mortal. 

The boy turned in surprise, his deep blue eyes widened and stared at him, unmoving. He was lost in those amber eyes while a million thoughts ran through his mind. 

“Your highness?” Morax now furrowed his brows in concern, why was the boy so quiet, did something happen?  

“Ah apologies, I’m alright. It’s just… You looked really familiar.” Sheepishly he rubbed his head.  

Oh. So his boy remembers. Or at least his soul does. 

The youth opened his mouth to speak again, “But how did you–”

“There is only one man in the nation with bright hair and blue eyes like yours,” Morax chuckled. His naive little boy. Precious boy. 

“I see…My disguise must be quite poor then. I’m quite embarrassed,” the prince sighed, “Well then, please just call me Ajax!”

“Ajax…” the god mumbled, feeling a sense of déjà vu, ”Well dear Ajax, I am Zhongli.”

And so, they became friends.

.

From then on, Ajax would sneak out of the palace walls every night, to the rundown temple. It felt like strings of fate begging at him, pulling at him to go. And who was he to deny them? So he went with offerings in tow, wrapped in a silk blue cloth. Because it felt right. 

Zhongli would wait for the boy by the entrance of the temple, reminiscing about the past. Once Ajax would arrive, they would both go inside, unwrap the offerings that contained a single wild glaze lily, some berries and sunsettia. Placing it before the brass idol.

They would sit on the floor and chat. It felt right. It just did. Hours would pass till the starry sky would change its colours and welcome the sun peeking from behind the mountains. The little mortal would then dash back to the palace, promising Zhongli that he’d come back the next day. It was a routine. A comforting one. 

Months passed, and Ajax would still sneak out of his palace, with offerings in tow. Walk down the same dusty path as he did previously and wave at the long-haired man to catch his attention. 

The two would call each other soulmates. As the world felt appropriate since whenever they were in each other’s presence, they would feel complete, warm and at peace. The boy would say that whenever he looked at Zhongli, he would feel indescribably happy and bubbly. And even though he had never seen the man before in his life, he felt as if he’d known him for many many years. It was fate; they concluded. Fate that brought them together. Yes. 

One day however, he had a strange encounter. Right after the little mortal sneaked out of the palace, he would always stop by a lake to wash his face and hands. This time, a blinding flash of light emerged from where he was standing, startled he fell on his back. 

A body took shape in front of him, of a woman no less. Slowly, the light subsided and he could finally see. It was the goddess of dust, Guizhong. In all her bright and silvery glory. As soon as he realised, the boy bowed down haphazardly. 

“Rise, my child,” said the goddess, as she tipped the ginger’s face upwards to meet her grey eyes. 

“I dare not, goddess, lest I disrespect you,” he mumbled and averted his eyes.

“Fear not, little mortal. I am not here to punish you, in fact I am here to reward you,” she chuckled, eyes crinkling in delight. 

To which, the boy looked at her at last in curiosity. She took this as a chance and continued, “The heavens are impressed by your devotion and they have decided to give you a boon. Ask away, my child. What do you wish for?”

The boy was stumped. A boon? But he has done nothing worthy in his life, so why? 

Guizhong replied as if reading his mind, “Throughout your many previous lives including this one, your good deeds, offerings and deep meditation tallied up. Therefore, you are given a chance to ask for anything you want.”

“But I want nothing… I need nothing, goddess Guizhong. I only hope to be with Zhongli forever,” Ajax declared instantly. 

What he didn’t realise was his choice of words.

“Very well, you shall spend eternity with Zhongli, and so, I bless you with immortality,” the goddess spoke in finality and placed her hand on the boy’s head. 

His body shone like a million stars had occupied his body until it disappeared. Memories of his many past lives flashed through his mind at a frenzied speed, he did not even realise drops of tears rolling down his cheeks until the goddess gently wiped through them all. 

“Hush my child, go now, your Zhongli is waiting for you. He has been looking over you in every single life you lived. It is nigh time that he reveals his true self today.” Smiling, she pulled Ajax up and sent him on his way to the temple. 

Slowly, the boy made his way to the temple and saw the brunet standing by the entrance as always. He ran into Zhongli’s arms, colliding with such great force that it almost took the breath out of the man’s chest. 

“What happened, my dear boy?”

“Mister Zhongli…. I remember now, everything. Every life. All the forms you took.” The ginger hid his face under the nook of the older man’s shoulder. 

Zhongli rubbed the boy’s back until he calmed down, gazing at him with warmth. 

“Even if you did not, I would still love you,” he whispered against the boy’s hair. 

.

“Happily ever after? Did they get married?” Ganyu asked at last, barely able to keep her eyes open. 

“Yes indeed. And Zhongli revealed his identity to Ajax, to which the boy wasn’t surprised. Saying he was quite obvious about it and with Ajax’s immortality, they now spend eternity with each other,” Cloud Retainer announced at last, “The end.”

“So, what do you think of this story?”

Sadly, Ganyu had been fast asleep by the time the raven haired woman asked her. With an exasperated sigh, she readjusted the blankets and turned the lights off, wishing her good night before leaving the room. 

.

Bonus scene 

Ganyu was excited when she heard that her uncle, Zhongli, would come with his spouse to dinner. It would be her first time seeing the person that turned her uncle into a blushing schoolgirl. What she didn’t expect was the bright ginger hair, deep abyssal eyes and a radiant smile. For some reason, her uncle’s spouse looked very familiar, except she just couldn’t place her finger on it. 

“Hello Ganyu, nice to meet you! My name is Ajax,” Uncle Zhongli's lover introduced himself. 

“Ajax? That’s a nice name, it reminds me of the little mortal from the story my auntie told me! He also has red hair and blue eyes, just like you.” Beamed Ganyu, looking at the man with sparkling eyes. 

To which, the man froze and chuckled nervously, “Oh I see, you like stories I presume? Would you like to hear some of mine? I promise you’ll love them.”

some author's notes

bao - steamed buns with filling

turov - surname for ajax

weiqi - chinese go

anyways...... @tsubaki3192

I've also cross posted this on ao3! 👉👈

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668606

[moontheoretist]

Basically why Gale Dekarios is past me and present me at once.

From one hand, he may not necessarily think that he is better than everybody else because he knows there are people smarter & better than him at stuff (like Elminster), but at the same time he can think he knows the best because he is an expert in the field. Which literally sounds like him thinking he is better than everybody else, as in most situations he is obviously the most qualified due to the fact that he was tutored by Elminster and Mystra themselves and that knowledge is both the source of his confidence and arrogance as depending on his behavior the line between the two may be very thin. (You can call it a scholar's hubris, as it's a typical behavior for any modern scholar that is an expert in their respective field and is excellent at what they do).

The funny thing with Gale is that he also at the same time thinks he isn't enough and that he is imperfect, but has potential to become perfect if given the chance (he is a perfectionist at heart). He clearly thinks that because he is imperfect, he needs to try harder at all the things he does, especially love. He thinks that he needs to earn love due to being aware of his imperfections, and he thinks that he has no value beyond his abilities, so when you take it away from him, he has nothing left and feels useless. And this in addition to the fact that he knows stuff most mortals just don't, as he was educated in them by Mystra herself, makes him think that he can do stuff that others will "surely" fail at (in his view, because if they don't fail then he'd rather prefer to say it was luck than admit that someone else may be able to do it even without the same amount of work he put in or the same or similar amount of knowledge that he gained through his studies, he can't accept it because it's the only thing in his own view that makes him useful and makes him proud, so yeah), because he was educated in them "properly". Gale thinks that magic is the only thing that he is actually good at, so I can imagine that when he sees that you can do something magical without his help, he feels useless and can't cope, so he tends to lash out instead. Not to mention that he has incredibly high standards for himself than other people that he wants to meet.

And that's also the reason why he falls into the trap of "I can be and will be a better God than Mystra". Yes, the same Mystra that used to be just a mortal girl. Mystra is a prime example of what happens to mortals that become Gods. It's not weird to think that you can fix something broken, because a lot of people has the same thoughts. People think they can be better bosses, politicians, presidents etc. than the people they despise for being bad at it, and the trick is that only a number of them will actually manage to become better than the people before them and break the cycle. While most of them will just repeat the same cycle - just like Gale does if he becomes a God.

Him striving for perfection is his hubris and also the way in which he hurts himself in the most cruel way, as by not accepting who he is, he rejects himself as he is now. He rejects the person that we like best, because he thinks that we deserve better than who he is now. That we - the player, deserve someone who is perfect in every way. He doesn't compute at first that people may actually like his imperfect self best.

There are two wolves in Gale and both are fighting. This dissonance ironically makes him think that he knows best, as surely he can't fail at it considering all his previous mistakes, yes? He knows better now, yes? Wrong. He doesn't know better, and it's very visible that he didn't notice his slip up into his past mindset that he told us about when he compared himself to Karsus. It was very ironic but also very human of him, when he later started talking about the Crown and how he can fix the world that Mystra fucked up. I had Karsus' story in mind and were like "Gale, my man, didn't you tell me that this is a bad idea to think you can be better than a God all by yourself not so long ago?". I was literally staring at him as my Drow Wizard with the brow raised high. We were like "bro, don't go there, you told us yourself it’s bad". (Also, another funny thing is that Astarion does the exact same 180 when he learns about ritual and rejects his current self as well. Those two are so similar it's hard to miss (and yet some can't see it). Their stories are both basically about repeating the cycles while being sure you can be better than your predecessor when it's plainly obvious you just can't).

I love the man, but damn, does he fall back on bad habits easily.

Why are people sleeping on the darker sides of Gales character and reducing it down to "he was groomed so it's not his fault/he only does it to hide his insecurity BC he hates himself so it's fine"

Y...you know his hubris is mega sized right? His ego is crazy inflated right? He's a power hungry man who genuinely thinks he's better suited to welding ultimate power than anyone else and he actions this perspective in game if you support him in it/unless you interrupt him right?

Like he has the Wizard Ego we see in Rolan, in Lorroakan. He has it too. It's kind of a wizard... Thing in the game at least, where they act like they're hot shit and spend their time trying to put other wizards down because they treat it like Highlander lol (THERE can BE only ONE ultimate hot shit wizard and of course it's me!)

He thinks he has the best opinions, he thinks he's the smartest, he thinks he's the best suited for power and that he's entitled to it because he's the best. He is extremely ambitious and he thinks being ambitious is one of his best qualities.

Have you seen his reaction if you try to let your Tav deal with that magic in that scene? Where he goes off about being the most qualified and that you CANT do it, and if you do he calls it sheer dumb luck?

Like you can totally say he acts this way due to severe insecurity but *he 1000%* DOES act this way in game and again, it's good writing! Is he a loving gentleman? Was he groomed and abused? All yes.

Does he have the hubris of a man who thinks he's better than everyone else and deserves godhood for himself and does he have an ego the size of Faerun that is also so delicate he threatens to explode if you tell him he's unimpressive ? Yes

Cause he's multi faceted and well written and he has good aspects and rough aspects and questionable characteristics and negative characteristics almost like a person who is capable of being many things at once, like real people are.

C'mon, fandom, let's try to take characters for all that they are and not pedestal them. It really take the flavour out of the experience because there's so much potential in characters that are more than just the 'best' parts of themselves

He also grows and changes throughout the game based on your characters influence and that's important to note as well because that's super cool and it means he has character development

[lets-try-some-writing]

Got Angst for Prime.

AU: Whatever AU you want to use.

Concept: Ratchet's Optics never really recovered from his Synth-En incident. He sees everything in a tint of green. And his optics show it. So, every time OP looks Ratchet in the optics, he sees the blue with a tinge of green surrounding it, and he gets hit with how bad he failed Ratchet.

(I've pretty much always HC that Ratchet had some lasting aftereffects of his tests. This one's my favorite though.)

I can't help it.

I am going to make this shippy.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Optimus had always loved Ratchet's optics. If you asked him, he would deny the way he often found himself staring wistfully off in the doctor's direction. It was all professional concern for a mech who simply didn't know when he needed to rest and recover. If he shared a glance with Ratchet for a little longer than normal, it was simply because he cared. That was what he told others. Whether or not they believe him was up for debate.

But beneath that veil of half truths created for both his and Ratchet's safety, Optimus's affections ran deep.

Even before the war, he'd loved those optics. Ratchet's optics were aged even when Orion was young. And yet they held a life to them that was undeniable. Passion incapable of being smothered by the harsh words of others and the seemingly impossible trial that was going up a caste. Ratchet bore every burden and political scheme with blunt determination, his optics always shining brightly as a hint of a smirk played on his features. Optimus loved that mischievous grin and the telltale glint that Ratchet got in his optics when he had some wild plan cooked up. Even though he was unable to bring himself to utter the compliments that formed in the back of his mind, he loved the Doctor's optics more than he cared to admit. So much energy contained within a compact frame. It was beautiful in its own unique way.

Once the war began and Orion Pax became Optimus Prime, he did not think about Ratchet's optics as much. At least until they began to lose the shine that he had been so familiar with in his youth.

War was uncaring and it held no love for those trapped within its web. Optimus endured it with the patience of the old gods of Cybertron long since left to rot. Whispers of ancient beings far beyond his comprehension clouded his sense of time. Tears he wept for the fallen turned his gaze away from those around him and instead to the rivers of energon that flowed around his pedes. He endured it as the last of a long line of divines given frame. But Ratchet was mortal, and as the war dragged on, those optics that Optimus adored grew darker. Passion changed to red hot fury so bright and dangerous that Ratchet's gaze felt almost like venom at times.

Stokes of fire leapt through Ratchet's blazing optics, and more than once Optimus feared he'd be scorched by that boiling inferno of loss and grief. And yet despite being the one to lead their war ever onward, Optimus never felt Ratchet's anger directed at him. When those optics gazed up at him, Optimus felt only age old affection and care. Fire was tamed and turned to comforting warmth. Steady servos ran along his arms and a soothing voice lulled Optimus into temporary serenity on long cycles where he simply had no more tears to shed or reason to give to their Primus forsaken war. All the while those optics met his own and Optimus was at peace.

Vorns passed by. Optimus continued in his eternal march toward victory and Ratchet continued to change. Rage turned into bitterness, the molten hot wrath of war transforming into a deep set sorrow that left creases in the living metal that surrounded Ratchet's optics. Grim darkness pooled in that once passionate gaze. Those optics flickered in wrath long fostered each time Megatron made himself known. Those optics flared with every injury that the team brought with them back to base once they arrived on Earth. Those optics that Optimus loved so dearly dimmed and quieted, their light softening in the dark of the medical bay on long nights when Ratchet thought no one would hear his quiet sobs.

Optimus always loved Ratchet's optics.

He should have treated him better.

"Does it still hurt?" Optimus asked as he ran his digits over the weld on Ratchet's side.

"Of course it does. The weld has only been in place for a month and the wound ran deep." Ratchet replied clinically, not looking up from his work even as Optimus risked wrapped his arms around the doctor's waist. Others could see, but in the moment, he didn't care.

"I'm sorry." He murmured into the crook of Ratchet's neck as he leaned down, desperate to feel the comforting warmth of Ratchet's frame against his. The Doctor stilled, his field extending and wrapping around Optimus is concern.

"Optimus, please, we've talked about this. I was out of line in saying that. You are not at fault." Ratchet broke from Optimus's embrace and turned around. Optimus wanted to look away in shame as those optics looked up at him, still as lovely as ever, but tinted a haunting green.

A sign of Optimus's greatest failure.

"I am at fault, and you know that as well as I do. Let us not delude ourselves." Optimus reached out to cup Ratchet's face. The Doctor leaned into his touch obligingly. Any open affection was a risk, but there was something unspoken that needed to be addressed before time ran out and the world drew them apart yet again.

"You have always done what you think is right. I can't blame you for hoping and trying to save a mech who was once a friend." Ratchet's optics cycled and the green became more prominent within them in response to his emotions. Optimus frowned and shifted so caress the metal around the Doctors optics. His scarred digits traced creases and small scuffs, lingering around the corners of Ratchet's optics as Optimus observed the green hue in sorrow.

"You shouldn't have felt pressured to do this to yourself. The risks were too great. If I had only-" A digit pressed to Optimus's derma before he could continue, silencing his attempts at being self deprecating before they could truly begin.

"I made my choice. It is not your fault. Besides, the world is just a little more green for me now. That is all." Ratchet forced a smile, but Optimus could not bring himself to do the same. Ratchet's words while he was on synthetic energon were cruel... but undeniably true. How many times had Optimus had the chance to bring down Megatron only to let the warlord go? How many lives could he have saved if he had only put aside his feelings on the matter and acted?

"I can tell you are beating yourself up over it. Stop. It's over now and I'm fine." Ratchet pulled away and Optimus's servos fell. They stood quietly together for a nanoklik before Ratchet moved forward, his smaller frame pressing against Optimus's in a gentle embrace. Strong arms hooked themselves around the crooks of Optimus's torso, unwavering but gentle enough that if he wished, the Prime could pull away.

"Forgive me." Optimus murmured in the quiet of the medical bay. A gentle hum met his plea. Neither said another word as they stood in the relative dark, comforted in the presence of one another. Only the light of the nearby console lit up the area, but it was more than enough for the Prime to work with.

Green tinted optics glowed in the gloom, illuminating Optimus's face as he leaned down. Ratchet's optics closed, most likely expecting a gentle touch to the crest of his helm. Instead, Optimus leaned as close as he was able, even going so far as to angle his helm so that he could get near enough to place a ghost of a kiss over Ratchet's optics. Each closed optic received the lightest of touches, so soft that it may as well have been a gust of wind. But as Optimus pulled back and settled into the helm touch that Ratchet had likely been prepared for, the Prime finally smiled.

"Thank you for standing by my side." Ratchet stared in shock as the Prime's digits again found their place tracing around the Doctor's optics. Ratchet stood still, uncertain of how to respond until Optimus spoke again.

"I've always loved your optics, regardless of their hue." Optimus assured, earning a gentle huff from his companion.

"You sap." Ratchet whispered even as his optics glowed in all too rare joy at the show of affection. The green was still present, a permanent reminder of the costs of war. However Optimus continued to smile all the same, simply pleased to have those optics locked on him.

Yes, Optimus would admit it aloud if times permitted.

He had always loved Ratchet's optics.

[arclundarchivist]

C3E43 SPOILERS!

Turn back!

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-

NOW!

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Finally! Truth revealed! Lore beheld! Mysteries deepening! And Ashton missed it all due to “things.”

The first true appearance of Planerider Ryn, awesome!

The reveal that Otohan/Cerberus/Unseelie Plot have made three devices that act as “anchors/tethers.” Worrying. Are they trying to pull Ruidus to them, tie themselves to it, or pull, and pull, and pull until everything comes the fuck apart.

And how does Ira, who stated he believes they will fail and has his own intentions for the Solstice possibly fuck it all up?

Imogen’s mom is with the baddies…can see that ending in all sorts of tragic ways.

But that only moves forward if they get outta the damn basement unaccosted.

It felt for so long like this campaign was bull-rushing towards a confrontation that admittedly felt like the End Game. Not sure if anyone felt like that? But now…with how Matt has panned it out, I think the confrontation in the Valley during the Solstice will be a similar climax to the “war” with Obann but part of me also sees Exandria getting changed in some vast unexpected way. Likely Otohan and Ludenis will return when they’re in the double digits, and the dangers *on* Ruidus beyond that.

Speaking of which.

Predathos, Ethedok, Vordo. New names but ancient ones. What befalls an eaten god? Is their death for certain, or are they trapped within this ancient predator?

This opens so many more questions. What were the Gods original, to have a Predator? Survivors of another world given intent. Multiversal Travelers. Victims Fleeing Extinction? How does Predathos compare to Tharizdun? To the Luxon?

Is it not odd that the first mortal two ascend, a Ruidusborn arose to claim the portfolios of of said fallen Gods? Fate and Winter, tied to Death? Who was she…what did she know? Did she know anything at all about the Red Moon? What did the other Gods think to see said Mortal snap up the domains of their long lost brethren?

The Deities and the Titans, historicized as enemies until Betrayal split the former United, the Travelers and the Children of the Luxon, to lock away this vast being. Who succeeded where *Tharizdun* failed.

So then, as Brennan said Asmodeus lied very little 8 centuries ago in his rants to “The Holy Man”.

A Promise had been made, a bond forged in fear and necessity and the mores of survival.

And the Prime…threw it aside because of *one* mortal. Again I ask, who where they, to be so beloved of the Gods?

Also if the city is truly home to only the Children of Predathos. Then we’ve got Aliens folks.

Also sudden thought.

Predathos is like a weird in between of Tharizdun and The Luxon, two beings that are also old and eldritch and not truly part of the main pantheon.

The Luxon is Life, Boundless Life and Light and Moment, carrying on and on, bringing back the deceased to live once more. Eternity.

Tharizdun is Destruction, an endless consuming hunger and darkness that gives nothing back but madness. It can not create only Warp. Entropy.

Predathos, Consumes Yet Gives Life. It Shatters Minds But Enlivens Their Potential. It is a Lightning Strike Competing Light and Shadow, Intensity and Finality.

One Gives, the Other Takes, the Final Makes.

Can’t wait for next time, as we delve into Fey or Shadow, Chaos or Victory. I say, Nevermind, that Blood Red Moon, the Night Will be Over Soon.

It’s been a fantastic year offering my transcriptions, theories and tales to you all! Have a Merry Holiday, and a Happy New Year!

Can’t wait for it to be Thursday Again. See y’all then.

PS: The fuck is up with that bird?

[notonelineff]

The Curse of Lucifer: Plausible Ideas with Poor Execution

Season 6 spoilers below.

Before I start, I want to make it clear that I am in no way saying that "Plausible Ideas with Poor Execution" applies to every single plot point in Lucifer. It doesn't. If it did, I wouldn't watch it. But this is an issue that, in my mind, has plagued some of the show's storylines, including those in S6.

A prime example of this is Chloe's betrayal in S4. It's totally feasible to me that she would react the way she did. But a lot of fans found it unbelievable after everything she and Lucifer had been through together, and as a result, the character received a lot of hate for it, and I mean a lot. The reason? Because the writers failed to set it up properly.

Kinley's manipulation of Chloe was inadequate, to say the least. Suggesting that Lucifer doesn't lie is the biggest lie of all is excellent, but the rest of it? A book which Chloe herself points out is circumstantial evidence, and...? There were options that would have been far more convincing to the audience - involving Trixie and playing on Chloe's instincts as a mother, for example. S4 was a tight season with only 10 episodes, but the issue was never extra time. It was what we were shown in the scenes that we got.

Which is exactly the problem we have with S6. So let's move on to three things about that finale, shall we?

1. Lucifer and Chloe had a choice.

Lucifer chooses his daughter's wishes over his own desire to stay on Earth with Chloe and raise her. A beautiful and poetic parental sacrifice... or it would have been, if not for the way it was handled.

How to make it seem like your character had a choice? Don't have them make it under duress. Here's Lucifer's side of that conversation with Rory: "Rory, no! I'll miss your childhood. I'll miss your life! Please... No. Please don't do this. Don't. I can't! Don't MAKE ME do this. I can't."

Do they need to show how desperately Lucifer doesn't want to leave them? Yes. But having him beg her not to make him is entirely the wrong way to go about it if you want the audience to come away with the impression he had any choice in the matter. By including those two words, they left the fandom completely divided on this issue. (And I mean that literally - there was a poll on Twitter which came out 50/50.)

And then there's the fact they give Chloe no agency whatsoever. She merely stands there while Rory and Lucifer (if you go with the view that he had a choice) decide her future for her. The rest of her human life is considered nothing more than a blip, without any thought to how time is perceived by mortals. One desperate look at Chloe from Lucifer, and one nod in return from her, would have included her in the conversation. Instead, she is left out of the equation entirely, as though it's assumed that because she's a mother, her choice is automatic.

There is definitely an argument to be made that they could have changed their minds afterwards. But Rory knew what she was doing when she had Lucifer give his word. We've only seen Lucifer break his word once, and that was when he thought he was putting Chloe in danger. This time, by breaking it, he thinks he would be putting the Rory he knows in danger of disappearing. Which leads me on to...

2. Rory doesn't want to change

I think we can all understand this. How many of us would want to be erased? Sure, I can give you reasons aplenty as to why I think Rory should have sacrificed herself, but that's not the point of this post. The point is, the reason Lucifer and Chloe do as she asks is because she wants to stay as she is. But the writers make that difficult for some parts of the fandom to understand, because outside of being an angsty teenager, her character is barely established at all.

Here's what we know about Rory:

1. She's older than she looks. Despite being written as an angry 15 year old, she's actually older than 20. It's not until the end of the show that it's revealed she's between 40-50 years old.

2. She likes her cool wings, because they remind her of her mom.

3. She loves and idolises her mom.

4. She is angry at and hates Lucifer enough that she self-actualised time travel to come back and kill him. His disappearance "ruined her life."

So why should the audience care about her enough to prioritise her wishes over Chloe and Lucifer's happiness? She's a brand new character, and we know almost nothing about her. She's 50 years old. What kind of life does she have? Does she have a career, a partner, passions, hobbies, other than liking to drive her dad's car really fast?

Instead of making it clear why Rory doesn't want to change, the writers are more successful in making it seem like she has a childhood she would want to change, especially after seeing how happy her mom is with Lucifer.

This isn't helped by the focus not being on Rory changing, and far more on her desire for Lucifer to help souls in Hell (more on this later). She gets one throwaway line on the subject: "That you won't change me!" I won't lie, the scene is so hectic that I actually missed it the first time around. It wasn't until later, by reading interviews, that I realised this was supposed to be the main motivation for the decision.

Finally, it's made clear in the season that Rory doesn't know how time travel works. In one moment, she can't reveal the future in case anything changes. In the next, she’s not only telling people what happens, but also saying the future is set and nothing can be changed.

So when Rory says about her changing, she actually has no idea if that will be the case. Lucifer is already set in a universe where if reality is changed, the core of people remains the same. As was stated in the AU episode, they make the same choices, have the same passions. The audience knows this, and it makes the idea harder to swallow.

3. Lucifer wouldn't have realised his calling without Rory travelling back in time

If Rory never travels back, then she never brings Dan to Earth, giving Lucifer a chance to unintentionally help him to Heaven. He also never helps Rory, meaning he never reaches the conclusion that he wants to help free souls of their guilt.

Except... by the end of episode 3, the writers already have Lucifer halfway there. Hell, the beginning is established at the end of season 5, with Lucifer talking about how unjust the situation is. He helps Mr. SOB get to Heaven by taking him to the source of his guilt. He is actively trying to find a way to help Dan when we kick off season 6. By episode 3, he is investigating the loop of Jimmy Barnes to try and find a way to help him. Has he succeeded yet? No. But he is working his way towards it, and it does his character an injustice to say that he wouldn't have gotten there without Rory.

All it would have taken was one conversation with Maze for him to realise why putting Dan in his own kind of purgatory wasn't working. Or further therapy and discussion on the subject with Linda. There are many, many ways for him to get there, with just a little help.

In order to sell the idea that the loop has to happen, and that Rory has to be there for him to understand his calling, she needed to be far more instrumental in the process.

In conclusion:

Do I like the end of S6? No, I think anyone who follows my Twitter account already knows that. But perhaps I could have accepted it more if what they were trying to achieve was presented more effectively.

A clear choice made by a parent to save the future child they have fallen in love with, who in return is sacrificing a childhood where she could have been raised by both her parents, so that her father can help other people.

But that's not what we got, and it's one of the reasons the fandom will forever be at odds over it.

[risingxsparks]

Her relief was doomed to be short lived. Windblade could already tell, sensing the settling shame and guilt from having gone against the wishes of the Mistress. But she refused to believe that anything that might get her closer to helping her people could be wrong— especially when nobody but her was at risk in this situation.

She was the one facing the threats of a completely strange world, far away from home, walking into a war between factions of Cybertronians who —from what Primus showed her— cared little about the lives of her people.

This wasn't something she'd been warned about when she became a Cityspeaker, but someone had to do it.

And Megatron, despite all the stories she'd heard, was willing to help her on her mission.

Windblade's lips pressed into a thin line when he mentioned the Mistress answering for her own actions. It was second nature to want to protect the leader that she'd been told her whole life represented the will of the thirteen Primes, who were practically deities to Camiens. But Windblade knew better— she told herself she knew better. Regardless of how many times she'd been told to not speak such things out loud, the Mistress was flawed, mortal just like everyone else; and so had been the Primes.

After all, if they had been as great as most Camien texts depicted them to be, they would have surely done something to assist the colony.

"I simply know my place," Windblade said when he called her courageous. This wasn't about courage, it was about what she could and couldn't achieve on her own. About knowing her limits, knowing when it was time to seek more experienced leadership. "And I know that while good leaders must be respected, a leader that fails time and time again to do what is right for their people must be questioned."

She was happy to circle back to the task at hand.

"I managed to put a tracker on one of them, the one called Blackjack," she said. "He worries me the most, as he used to be a Cityspeaker, known for his cruelty before he was... forcefully removed from the role on account of multiple reports of unnecessary force when dealing with Titans and mechs. He fled Caminus to avoid consequences, and I am convinced he is not above dooming the colony to once again save himself from facing the consequences of his own actions. The signal indicates he is on the ship."

If he had intended for anyone else from Caminus to assist me, then I would not have been the only one chosen.

To be quite blunt, that sounded like a load of slag to Megatron. How could one person be expected to carry the burden of the welfare of an entire colony? As a leader, himself, he could see the desperate futility of it — as well as the hands-off, 'I don't care what happens, as long as I come out looking squeaky clean' mentality that this implied of the Mistress of Flame, for her to ( seemingly ) not lift a finger to offer their assigned salvation any assistance. And Windblade needed way more than just one or two other people to help her figure this mess out. Hell — she needed an entire team to pull this thing off.

Mechs to help her source parts and raw materials for Caminus, if there were any possibility of repairing him. Scouts to search outside the System for new sources of Energon. Reaching out to and forging alliances and trade routes with neighboring space-faring Empires. If nothing else, perhaps begin planning an evacuation to somewhere better suited to sustain their numbers.

It was heinous, to think that a supposed 'Primus-representative' mech as this Mistress of Flame, could let her own mistrust and biases interfere with her sense of duty to her people. It was weak and selfish, and precious few things irritated Megatron more than the perceived weaknesses of leaders in power, and their inability to make selfless choices for the greater good.

He huffed a faint jet of steam from his nose. "You'll forgive me for saying so, but that sounds very much like something you were told to say, rather than something you truly believe."

He's referring of course to her line about self-martyrdom. It's not that he was minimizing her abilities; on the contrary, it was admirable that she was doing so much to help her people. But this begged the question — how close was she to the Mistress of Flame, that she was internalizing these damaging sentiments as to her individuality, or rather the lack thereof, and her limited agency as only a tool of the Gods? It sounded suspiciously like the kind of rhetoric that a zealot would force into the heads of her chosen disciples, and it curdled something in Megatron's tanks even just to think about.

"There's no need to apologize on behalf of the leaders that have failed you, so I'd ask that you allow the Mistress to answer for her own actions when the time comes." He meant that. If he was going to become involved in this political dance, he knew an audience — if not a confrontation — with the Mistress would be inevitable. A conversation wherein he asked clarification of Windblade's accusations as to her ineptitude, as well as asking to know what she had or hadn't done to help her people.

Megatron suspected he wouldn't like the answer to those questions.

He dipped his helm in response to her thanks. "It took a lot of courage to reach out to me, despite the projected biases of your leader. If anyone is equipped to help you, it's me, and you made the right choice by speaking to me against her wishes." Presumably against her wishes. Megatron was sure the Mistress wouldn't be happy to hear that Windblade had sought outside help, nor would she be happy that she'd told him sensitive information regarding the colony's health and its auto-cannibalizing attempts to stay alive.

"But let's circle back. Tell me — where are these three mechs? Are any of them on the ship?"

[soranis-sunshadow]

10 unpopular opinions about Horde Prime

Uh boy! @entrapdaknation I thought you’d never ask :D

(I do have a lot of hc’s about Him)

1) My first unpopular opinion is that Horde Prime is not an eldritch monster. The way I’m personally envisioning him is that used to be a person once, a mortal. He didn’t steal a body, the clones are what he used to look like. He had been a brilliant scientist that figured out how to transfer his mind to a new body and as such He discovered immortality. Since dying is part of the “human” condition, the loss of mortality means He lost one of the fundamental “human” experiences with it.

Death is sort of the finish line for all of human experience if you think about it and eliminating it removes the motivation for a lot of things. Mortals have a hunger for experiencing things because of the ever present deadline over our heads that makes the time we have in this world precious. Horde Prime, or whoever he used to be, by eliminating that made it so that with unlimited time, every second became essentially worthless. He has all the seconds in the universe theoretically. He could procrastinate and take all the time he’s ever wanted do something up until the heat death of the universe if He so pleased. Without mortality, the fear of a deadline no longer motivated Him do certain things. This produced an alienation from his own species, it made his experience so far removed from it that in time, he saw himself as a distinct and different entity from his originating species. He was no longer running the same race as everyone else, why bother keeping up the pace or even running at all? With this break in the pacing of his life, connecting to any “mortal” became useless as well, since every connection this Newly Immortal Prime would have made would be transient and these connection were destined to fail because of time. Mortals died, Prime did not. In time, he would have grieved over and accumulated so many losses that he would have stopped trying. Why bond with Mayflies?

Even his own created brothers died in time (he didn't want to create a rival, they were not granted his immortality) so why bother relating to them anymore, they are specs of dust in his lifetime. There is no point in naming them anymore, so many of them have lived and died, their existences meshing into each other. They stopped being brothers and started being tools, there to serve a purpose. That is all an immortal Prime would have needed of them anymore. Connection then loss, new connection and loss compounded over time until it hardened Him not to even attempt it at all anymore.

Prime is a unique creature and as such, he is so desperately alone in his experience the disconnect between Him and everyone else was a rift widening with each passing lifetime. No one else can relate. He could no longer connect to anyone since functionally speaking, he no longer had anything in common with anyone. He has no peers and NO Equal. He tried to do relieve his solitude by creating His clones; at least those had parts of Him in common but their mortality made them transient things, ephemeral. It was even more jarring to see something that has your face but is still just as alien, had an experience so differing from Yours. They made Prime feel even more alienated. So he decided they should have no experience at all…

By becoming Immortal, Prime froze his natural evolution at the point where he became immortal. In his experience mortals lived, died, changed throughout their lives whilst he became this fixed point of the universe. To make matters worse, it is suggested that he loses memories upon swapping bodies and we get to my second unpopular Prime opinion:

2) Horde Prime has dementia. He is not a creature that was born immortal, he made himself immortal (Altered Carbon style) and as such is not adapted to it. Biologically his brain can only contain the experience of one lifetime and when he switches bodies, a part of his life has to be left behind. In time he has left so many things behind that it becomes strange to wonder what Prime even is anymore. It becomes one of those “ship of Theseus” paradoxes. He changes bodies, in times loses memories… Is even the same person anymore? All of his former experiences are stored in bodies bottled up on the ship, he only keeps what is relevant each time he moves on to a new body, the details of his mortal experience become less and less relevant and so he discards those too eventually. With each transfer Prime loses himself. In time, he forgets why even started this conflict across the stars or what his original name was when he was mortal. He forgets having ever been mortal at all. His memories of the past have been copied, transferred, corrupted, copied over whilst corrupted... It was so insidious that He didn't realize it was happening at first. It took time for him to realize something was off and to realize that His memories are losing quality or are misshapen... there is a dread there, to not know what is real and what has happened... He embraces denial and repeats to Himself that his memories are accurate and he Knows all and Sees all. His recollections are what happened. He wills it so! He declares it even though he is aware that different copies of that memory exist in the Hivemind and that his memories have mixed and mashed together, some recollections are isolated, disturbed and broken, the data corrupted in time, a source of confusion. He needs to believe in the veritability of his own experience for anything to make sense.

3) Horde Prime is a creature that came to being in the dusk of the First Ones decaying Empire. His planet had been conquered by them who knows how long ago but all empires fail and fracture in time, so the First Ones fought amongst each other to gain dominance over factions of themselves, practicing scorched earth tactics and leaving chaos in their wake. Mara taking their main weapon and deterrent against all out war - The Heart of Etheria - away catalyzed the decay. As an aside, I like to believe time flows differently in Despondos than it does in outer space, a thousand years on Etheria is different than however long Prime was alive. Hordak spent 20 years on Etheria but it may as well have been ten times that or more for Prime and the outer universe.

The fall of the First Ones Empire was messy and left a void of power in its wake. They used magic to fight each other and when all of that was consumed in their technology no longer worked (which is why magic is so forgotten in the present). They started fighting each other with “conventional” weapons of mass destruction leaving nothing but devastation in their wake. The former colonies fought amongst each other after the demise of the First Ones and war was followed by more war albeit on a smaller scale.

A ‘younger’ Prime would have been a creature of the aftermath of that devastating conflict, a conflict that decimated the FO and the colonies almost completely. He rose to prominence due to his preaching of “peace” and “order” and he may have even meant it.

He slowly but steadily expanded his influence over the remnants of that old Empire fighting the survivors of that conflict and gaining dominion over the “known universe”… (Known by whom you ask? The First Ones of course!)

After a conflict so devastating, many would’ve welcomed His peace. In the beginning, a lot of the worlds of his empire would’ve joined him willingly if only because he was an agent of stability.

Under Prime’s control, worlds could no longer fight amongst themselves.

In a way he kept them safe.

We can see that he didn’t chip or destroy all of the worlds under his dominion in the show.

These worlds did not need to fight their own wars anymore, Prime did it for them with his Horde of disposable Clones. In time these worlds however were turned from vassals of His to subordinates…

sooo that’s how 4) the name of the space bat species was forgotten, they were just a horde of clones… Horde Clones…And Prime was merely the Primary Horde Clone… No longer an individual.

He doesn’t remember his own name… It’s been that long and the memory of who he was and what he was called is probably stored in one of the bodies at the back of the Velvet Glove under irrelevant and outdated information. For all intents and purposes He is the face of this Horde of His… He also lacks individuality and personhood… Whereas his clones are less than people in His conception, He is more than just a person… He is all of them, he is the whole Horde… (I am legion)

Which is why 5) He stores bits of himself in each and every clone so that it is easier to access it because no one body can contain all he needs… Functionally, he exists in more than one body at the same time which is why He is convinced that he knows all and sees all because he receives input and data from his clones at all time. Virtually he sees through their eyes as well as his own. He is no longer a creature stuck in one body. He is active in all of them at all times but only takes control of them when needed. That is why the brothers are convinced they are parts of the whole… Because functionally they ARE merely parts of Horde Prime… Like each individual clone is an organ of the complex creature that was what Horde Prime had become. That is why there is no place for them to become individuals, a finger has no right to be an individual creature when it’s part of your body.

6) Prime doesn’t recognize Mara in season five at all. He never actually fought Mara but he doesn't remember that. He merely ponders whether he had fought her at some point… He doesn’t remember and it’s no longer relevant…

It’s been so long ago that Prime doesn’t even remember the First Ones anymore. It’s no longer relevant information. It’s ancient history. What he does however keep with Him is his inherent suspicion and fear of Magic. The FO fought amongst themselves using magic; his world - while he was mortal, somewhere in his formative years, had witnessed magical weaponry and it may have been what decimated his species as the FO took control of his world. (it would explain why he would start cloning... there were too few of his kind left to be biologically viable...)

He doesn’t concretely remember any of that but he still feels suspicion and fear of magic and magical weaponry which is why he fled Krytis.

7) Horde Prime wanted an end.

After so many lifetimes, even He was tired and wanted it to stop. He has lived everything, forgotten everything then relived it over and over again ad infinitum. He no longer remembered why He had started doing this He just knew He had to keep going because it had been important at some point but he doesn't remember why and is tired of it.

8) He didn’t come up with his own religion… It was something that happened…

Horde Prime was a creature so impressive that his own followers – (at first the aliens under his control…) Started worshiping Him for his many achievements and His imortality. As these people worshiped Him... their Regent... their Ruler... His own clones started worshiping Him as well, first as a great leader and then… as a God and Creator. The change wasn’t sudden. It was a process and little by little it was built over time and changed to fit the current agenda at the time… just like real-life religions, the cult of Prime grew and evolved. In time, Horde Prime Himself forgot that he wasn’t a God, all of His current and recent (and uncorrupted) memories told Him he was. It was what everybody else told Him He was.... He no longer remembered not being God which is how He started believing it Himself.

9) Horde Prime’s cruelty towards His clones comes from his indifference and not from personal evil and malice. They mean too little to Him for Him to bother personally torturing them. They are like the pencils on my desk, there for me to write with when I need them and I might rip the handle off one when fiddling with it because I need something to do with my hands, not because I hate that pen in particular but because it was there and I'm bored…

10) Horde Prime didn’t really care all that much about sending this one particular clone on the frontline to be a cannon fodder. It was one of his attendants (the guys reading things off screens because Horde Prime likes hearing his own voice) that fainted during a particularly extensive conflict which signaled that it was time to get one last use out of that body by having it fire weapons at the enemy on the frontline until it was mowed down.

He didn’t care about “worthlessness” or “defectiveness”. That event may have been important for Hordak -personally - but for Horde Prime it may have been a Thursday, who knows?

What marked the clone that became Hordak as important enough to be worth being catalogued by Prime, so much so that decades later he had a note about him in the database - (and the ridiculous DMV photo – seriously? They have their photos in the database on their profiles? They’re clones!!! They all look the same *Facepalm* why would that be in the profiles? Why the hell would they even have profiles? sigh) - was the way in which this particular little brother disappeared.

The portal event that marked his disappearance was an unknown energy event the likes of which Prime had never encountered before (or didn't remember encountering - same thing really).

It was new and exciting data which is why it was relevant and so he noted it somewhere in the ships databanks. That’s what Horde Prime had catalogued ... not this particular defective clone but the mysterious way in which the clone disappeared.

So, there we go! 10 of my unpopular had cannons about Horde Prime! Hope you like them!

A lot of these came up because of the darkfic with Joy that I'm writing....

[allstarsstorymode867]

All-Stars -Story Mode- REWRITTEN

I had decided its time to for this All-Starverse to get a redo. I had finished writing this down so let me know what you think. Enjoy!

-The Prologue-

Once upon a time, long, long, long before our beloved home was created.

There lived ancient beings that referred to themselves as the watchers and caretakers of the prime universe that was once whole and lovely, it had a name once, it was called “The Original.”

The ancient race that looked over the Original, Fijis, are the most mastered and powerful ones that today’s date can not tell from their excellence in the ways of magic and knowledge.

To make the Original to be a comfortable realm to live in, they extended the regions of the prime dimension big enough for life to thrive in other words and stars held aloft in the night skies as the moons and suns rule their night and day as whole.

But one Fiji was the most talented of her kind, Kimiko the Dancer. She would make worlds for other beings that are mere mortals compared to her kind so magnificent and great through her heart and soul. It won the hearts of her masters and fellow students alike for her wonders and magic.

She was granted as the next master to watch over the Original with her fellow colleagues, as she was content with her accomplishments and valor, she had failed to realize that her beloved friend had grown envious at a dangerous rate as she failed to recreate magic of her own time and time again.

Her friend’s jealousy grew more disastrous with each passing eon until one fateful day.

The fabric of the Original’s reality begins to collapse as darkness has begun to enter and corrupt its foundation; her friend, Matilda, has released the darkness from her heart as it forms and crystallizes everything it touches.

New races that were created were vile and corrupt:

Hallows, beings that had lost their hearts and minds after being crystalized.

Crystallines, originally as the whole as dark and corrupt beings made to trick their victims into giving up their souls.

And the most dangerous beings that were created by these crystallines that we now referred to as…

The Grieves.

Monsters that were once innocent beings but turned after they were too corrupted by the crystallines. Turned and transformed into beings to bid Matilda’s command.

With the Original falling apart into nothing, the desperate Kimiko tried to reason with her friend but couldn’t.

The bitterness and cruelty created by envy had finally gotten to her friend as she now fully crystallized and transformed into the most dark and twisted entity that will forever tore the Original astunder:

The Broken

The empress could only laugh as she took in the crying Fijis as they kept trying to rebuild but the darkness she created could only feed on everything as the Original was violently being broken up into near nothing.

Pieces of the Original had now been reduced into new, smaller universes that the Broken minion army entered and conquered one world after another in the era of sorrow and chaos.

As the last resort to save not only her kind but what was left of the Original: She had relied on one strange being that had been introduced.

Human warriors known as knights.

She powered these humans with the stones that are not meant to be used until this very moment.

The stones that are weapons that the race of Fijis will never use until this day.

The weapons of magically great power and hope:

The Crystal Stars!

X ⭗ ☆ △ ▣

Kimiko leading the group, battles are won with surprising results:

Half of the Crystalline population had been exposed to the stones’ power of light, purifying them and switching sides upon seeing the results of their kinds’ actions.

Splitting the Crystalline race into two:

Pure and Corrupted Crystallines.

With the even odds, they lay siege against the Broken’s tyranny as Kimiko’s five knights; all but one had been crystallized as the result of using the stones’ magic.

Against one fateful battle, lead by the one knight who calls himself Mage, convinced his brothers in arms to use all they got to defeat the empress in a final confrontation.

Thanks to them, they had trapped the Broken inside a crystal and had her banished permanently within the confines of the mountains up high.

The battle proved to be a price to pay.

One by one, the five warriors that gave their lives had been extinguished.

Four warriors’ bodies transformed into their respective gems and scattered into the void.

As for the fifth one, battle had taken a toll on him as he was transformed into stone.

Not much left of the Original was salvaged, but Kimiko and Fijis had decided to take the full responsibility of watching over the fragmented universes as she rebuilds what was still standing from the Original into her personal domain for the surviving races:

Furthers, Avians, Reptilians, Marines and Insectiras.The remains of the Original became our home known as The Cathedral for use as a sanctuary to thrive.

Kimiko was made the overseer of the watchers and a queen of the Cathedral as peace and harmony has reigned for many generations ever since.

“Crystal Stars…”

Icefir had finished reading the book as her green glowing eyes peered down at the page, teasing her curiosity. Through the gas mask she wore with the witch’s cap shadowing over her eyes.

“When did I hear about those artifacts before?” She questioned herself as she closed her book and laid back against the tree that is strangely growing inside what appears to be a church along with vegetation of plants that seems to be making the place their new home. Vines and branches sprouting out of the cracks and holes of the stone walls and flowers blooming on them.

Letting her imagination take her away into her own little world as she looked up at the ceiling as the bird called its sweet melody.

“I gotta find out more about the stones.” She finally spoke her mind out loud as she turned to her side and then grabbed a fabric and then put it around her neck as her bracelet’s gem glowed softly.

Cloak covered her shoulders as it was short enough to reach over the shoulders but barely past over them as her aqua cyan and black spandex jumpsuit shines in the light as she stood up and then walked away from her favorite cherry blossom tree as its leaves and flowers are oddly glowing their own light before a breeze picked up and the flower pedals were taken away in the wind.

[thebadboyfanclub]

Do I Have To? (Carlisle x Reader)

So I had to repost this cause tumblr is on my ass for some reason. It was requested by an anon. Enjoy!

From the first glance (Y/n) and Carlisle were the opposites of each other. (Y/n) was a very guarded person, seemed cold and unapproachable, very stoic mannerism. Carlisle had a reassuring smile on his face almost every day, he carried himself with this warm and welcoming aura, most of their mutual would have never guessed that they would be the perfect match.

Carlisle begged to differ, yes when he met her he was a bit wary on how to approach her without insulting her, she had come to the hospital for a check up, since as a dance teacher she valued her health and tried to keep up with her blood tests and other stuff, if she wanted to teach she must set a good example and she had to be in top shape. Once he got to know her on a more personal level he realized that she was one of the most sensitive, empathetic woman, the most fascinating part about her was that she had this child-like wonder, that glistered in her eyes over the tiniest little things that people normally skip over or gradually take for granted. 

He often liked to reminisce of their first Christmas, he had finally convinced her to come over and spend it with his family, since it was one of their first milestones he tried to find the perfect gift, something that she would love with all her heart, so he bought her a replica of the dress from her favorite animated movie “Anastasia” along with the tiara she was wearing in one particular scene. In a blink of an eye the distant, confident (y/n) started bawling her eyes out from pure joy, without being able to utter a word.

“You know it’s just my luck to get sick right before Christmas”

As much as she loved being pampered, (y/n) hated being sick. All her injuries from her years of dancing were now aching and burning like a thousand suns, her nose was stuffy, her eyes burned and the fever was making her sweat profusely, she was a very neat person so this disheveled state was not her style, one of her worst case scenario was for Carlisle to see her like this.

Carlisle would always jump in the chance of taking care of her, that was his job, to mend the wounds of the people that he loved. He found her adorable as she was engulfed by the covers, her head deep in the pillows while her nose and cheeks were this cherry red that indicated of her persistent fever. 

“Come on angel it’s not that bad”

“Yes it is, get away from me I smell like death”

“People that suffered from the black plague smelled like death not you”

“Comparing me to the kind that got sick from a vicious plague that came from rats it’s not comforting”

Carlisle laughed at her wounded ego. (Y/n) did not only have the child-like wonder she also had the child-like temper and stubbornness of one whenever she got under the weather. She blamed it on him being what he was, which meant he never got sick or sweaty, he was just immune to anything ugly.

To him that was the most beautiful thing about her. She was human, she could cry, feel her heart race after running, her breath get more swallow after a work out. His favorite was when she got sleepy, her eyes slowly closing as she desperately tried to stay awake, how her voice got a bit raspy and slow, she was adorable to him. All these little things were the most amazing parts of her, stuff that he had lost decades ago, humanity was something he missed so much.

“Come on beautiful, time for your medicine”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, it will help with your fever”

She groaned before she sat up to take the little cup filled with the syrup. It was supposed to be cherry flavored, however everyone knew cherry flavored medicine tastes the worst, she took a breath to prepare herself for the awful flavor that was about to fill her taste buds when she let it touch her lips. As the thick liquid went down her throat she winced, making Carlisle laugh at the little grimace she did from the sourness of it. She started coughing over the thick consistency the medicine had, as she tried to suck it up and be a grown up.

“Fucking disgusting”

“Wash it down with this”

He passed her glass of freshly squeezed orange juice which she gladly took and gulped it down to recover from the awfulness that was the medicine. The sweetness of the juice soothed her throat, dissolving the sour taste of the previous liquid that went past it. He sat next her and tried to hug her when she pulled away and tried to hide under her blankets.

 “No, I smell”

“Angel, you smell fine. Let me give you a hug”

She didn’t respond, she just got closer to him and let her head to rest on his lap. He smiled at her silent reply and let his hand ran through her hair as she got comfortable. He was aware she felt awful but to him she couldn’t be more perfect, as she curled up to his side, her uneven breaths as she attempted to breath from her nose but failed, he wished to be able to have those things of humanity. 

“Why are you so perfect?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing angel”

“I hate that you are vampire, you get to be this untouchable thing and I get sick because I went out without a jacket”

“Mortality is the most amazing thing, you get to grow old with your friends and family, have a family of your own”

“Was it hard to outgrow people that you loved? I always wondered if you ever met a human that you cared for that has passed away”

It was an honest question, she always wanted to ask him but she never wanted to invade his privacy, she just hoped that maybe he would bring it up in a conversation or somebody from his family would give her a clue. He dwelled over her question for a minute, trying to find the right words, there have been so many patients he had seen, most of them young. 

Seeing them walk in the hospital with this determination of coming out on the other side, as the days turned to weeks and then months, slowly seeing that confidence and the life getting sucked out of them, their blank stares was the sharpest knife. Seeing them passing away at their prime, contacting their family, was the hardest part that he could never get used to.

“A lot of my patients that were in and out of hospitals lost the battle to cancer or aids, it’s hard to let them go I even thought of changing some of them, yet I couldn’t take them away from their families”

“No one expects you to adopt all of your patients mister Cullen. Even though you would do it if you could”

There it was, she was getting drowsy. He looked over her, her eyes were already closed, enjoying the feeling of his fingers massaging her scalp that made her relax and slowly drift off. He leaned in to place a kiss on her hot cheek, hoping that the medicine will soon take over

“Get some sleep angel, I’ll be right here”

"If I sleep that means I'll sweat like a pig again"

She murmured, standing in between being asleep and awake. He giggled before he gently helped her lay her head to her pillows, she didn't protest, mostly because she didn't understand the transition.

"you are supposed to. Get some rest and I'll ran you a hot bath when you wake up"