#harbinger-of-mask-and-void

[beloveds-embrace]

╰┈➤ A Harbinger’s Claim

Spoilers for 5.1 Archon Quest, yandere capitano x reader

yan!capi x soldier!reader who used to idolize/adore him? 👀

Specifically, you used to be a black serpent knight who worked under him. From the very first day you met him, you could not help but admire him; such a strong, powerful man- worthy of being a commander, worthy of being loved and respected. Your crush on him, your own commander, had been visible to any and all that cared to look. And that included even him, as well. 

Though he never quite returned your feelings. all of your attempts at catching his attention fell flat. Your commander did not care for romance, and did not care for you beyond you being a knight under his command. Still, you persisted and tried your best again and again to earn his praise and affection- through always training, keeping spare food from your own rations for him, willing to do any and all tasks. 

And then, Khaenri'ah falls, and you get injured and cursed to a painful immortality. It's devastating, it's cruel and painful and you end up separating from your group, including your commander- never knowing what happens to him.  

Five hundred years pass in resentment and bitterness, then a bone-deep exhaustion and now... 

The wind howls over the desolate, forgotten battlefield, carrying with it memories of long-lost battles and fallen comrades. You stand among the remnants, staring at the tattered banner of a past era. The centuries have been cruel, not just to the land, but to you. You don't know why you came back here, yet you can't bring yourself to leave just yet. 

Your legs ache- a dull, persistent pain that has been your constant companion for centuries. The curse has worn you down, body and soul, until all that remains is a tired will to survive. You sigh and shift your weight, leaning heavily on the stone slab you were using to remain upright. There’s little left to fight for now. Just a hollow existence.

Then, you feel it- the heavy presence of someone behind you. It’s not the first time you’ve felt a presence like this, and for a brief moment, a flicker of recognition stirs in your chest. You turn slowly, your body heavy with exhaustion, and there he is. Once, he'd been your commander. Now, he is a Fatui Harbinger.

Capitano.

The man you once idolized, the commander you adored. But that was so long ago, so distant it feels like another lifetime. Now, the sight of him- tall, imposing, clad in the black armor- stirs nothing inside you but weariness. His mask is as dark and unreadable as the void, hiding every part of his face, giving no hint of the man beneath. The commander you knew is long gone, replaced by this Harbinger, cold and unrelenting. Even if certain traits still exist within him.

“You’ve come back,” you murmur, your voice barely louder than the wind.

His head tilts ever so slightly, the black mask making it impossible to see his eyes. Yet you can feel his gaze locked on you, weighing you down even more. Once, you would have given everything for such attention.

“I’ve come to claim you.” he replies, his voice deep and resonating from behind the mask. The sound of it is steady, almost indifferent, yet it carries an unsettling weight of finality. 

You don’t move, don’t resist. The fatigue that has plagued you for centuries sinks deeper into your bones. “Claim me?” you echo softly,  chuckling. “What’s left to claim, Capitano? There’s nothing here anymore. I hold no adoration for you anymore."

The mask remains still, impenetrable, yet his presence grows more suffocating as he steps closer. “You were always mine,” he says quiet yet resolute. “And you still are.”

You sigh, not out of fear, but of sheer exhaustion. The energy to fight him, to resist, just isn’t there anymore. “I’m not the same soldier I used to be, commander. That person’s long gone. You should leave me here, where I belong.”

But Capitano doesn’t leave. Instead, his gloved hand reaches out and grips your wrist, firm but not painful. You don’t pull away. You simply look at him, weary and resigned, watching as he brings out a ring, dark as his armor. You don’t ask why—your mind too clouded with fatigue to even care.

He slides the ring onto your finger, his voice low and steady. “This is your place, with me. You’ve wandered for too long.”

You look down at the ring. It's cold. “It’s been centuries, Capitano,” you say, your voice a whisper. “Do you really still think I belong to you?”

He pulls you closer, until you’re pressed against his chestplate, the harsh cold of his armor making you shiver. His masked face hovers above yours, unreadable, but his grip is firm, unyielding. “I never stopped thinking it,” he murmurs, voice deep and possessive. “You admired me once- more than anyone. That devotion is mine to keep.”

You don’t fight him. You can’t. The years have taken too much out of you. “That was a lifetime ago,” you sigh, resting your head lightly against his armor. “I’m not sure I even know who you are anymore.”

“Then I’ll remind you,” he says, his voice soft but filled with dark certainty. “You will stay with me. We will be wed, and you will never be alone again. Your suffering ends with me.”

For a moment, you close your eyes, letting the heavy weariness wash over you. Part of you wants to resist, to push him away. But the truth is, you’re tired- so tired. The centuries of pain and solitude have worn you down to the point where even the idea of fighting feels like too much. Capitano’s grip is cold, but it’s steady, and in that moment, you almost feel… relieved. You don’t want to admit it, but the thought of someone else taking control, of someone else carrying the weight you’ve been shouldering alone, is tempting. Especially if it's him.

“Is this really what you want?” you ask, though you already know his answer.

His arms tighten around you, drawing you in even closer. “It’s not just what I want,” he says, voice low. Unbending. “It’s what will be.”

He lifts you into his arms with ease, your body too tired to struggle, too worn to protest. You glance up at the dark mask once more, seeing nothing but the void where his face should be. And yet, for the first time in what feels like ages, you don’t feel completely alone.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

“Snezhnaya,” he answers, his tone firm and absolute. “My home. Where you belong.”

You let out a soft sigh, leaning into his chest, your body going limp in his hold. “I’m too tired to fight you, Capitano. I don’t think I care anymore.”

His response is unwavering. “You won’t need to fight. You’ll be with me now. I’ll take care of you.”

As he begins to walk, each step echoing the finality of your fate, you close your eyes, surrendering to the exhaustion. The world around you fades, and all you can feel is his steady, unrelenting presence. The future, dark and uncertain, is no longer your burden to bear. So what if your freedom is to be taken away?

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” you murmur faintly.

“I do,” Capitano replies, his masked face tilting down toward you, his voice calm yet possessive. If he holds you any tighter, the claws of his armor would dig into your skin. “You’re mine. That is all you need.”

And as the cold winds of the battlefield sweep behind you, you let go of whatever fight you had left.

Part 2

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Hey, guys! We reached the end, I must say I loved it. Happy ending for everyone!!!

Enjoy it! <3

Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader x AgathaRio

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warnings: angs, smut and happy end

Summary: The guardian changes everything

Hey. Now I've a masterlist

INFINITY

The room was an echo of despair, a space where time seemed to halt in the face of Wanda's emotional devastation. The dimness was pierced only by the unstable flickers of spells, trembling like flames in agony, reflecting the chaos within her. Her fingers shook as she frantically leafed through grimoires, her eyes scanning lines of text that blurred before the teary haze clouding her vision.

Her heart pounded like a discordant drum, each beat a cruel reminder of the void consuming her. With every spell, every failed attempt to locate Agatha and the people she loved, her frustration grew. It wasn’t just anger; it was something far deeper, an existential fury threatening to devour everything around her.

When the door to the room burst open, interrupting her frenzy, Wanda didn’t even turn. “What are you doing here?” she growled, her voice dripping with venom.

Stephen Strange entered hesitantly but resolutely, his expression grave. “What am I doing here?” he echoed in response to Wanda’s cutting glare. “A Guardian and her daughter, two Solis, have been taken. Do you think that doesn’t affect me? That I don’t understand what this means for the universe?”

Wanda laughed without humor, a hollow sound that reverberated through the room like muffled thunder. She rose slowly, the energy around her rippling menacingly. “They’re not just Solis,” she replied, her voice sharp as glass. “They are my life. My reason. And no universe is worth more than them.”

Strange took a step forward, trying to strike a balance between authority and empathy. “Wanda, what you’re doing—what you’re considering—could tear the fabric of reality. You know this.” His eyes locked onto hers, seeking to understand the depth of her pain. “Whatever you do, Wanda, it has to be done with caution. The universe is at stake.”

She stared at him with a chill that could freeze hell itself. “Caution?” Her laugh was dark now, almost deranged. “Caution is what made me vulnerable. Caution is what made me lose everything before. And if I have to destroy the multiverse to bring them back, so be it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Strange, for a moment, couldn’t find words. He knew she was beyond reason, but he couldn’t ignore the raw humanity in her eyes, the terror masked by determination.

“You’re a monster,” he finally murmured, not with hatred but with sorrow. “Look at what you’re becoming, Wanda.”

She blinked, her face twisting with something that looked like pain but was quickly replaced by icy anger. “I am not a monster, Strange.” she said, each word laced with conviction and bitterness. “I am a broken woman. A mother who failed. A wife who couldn’t protect her family. And now, I will do whatever it takes. Whatever it takes…”

Strange tried once more. “Do you think bringing your family back this way will heal you? Will it erase what you’ve lost? Or will it only create more pain?”

She smiled, but the smile was empty, devoid of any warmth. “I’m not looking for healing, Stephen. I just want them back.”

The air around her began to vibrate, the walls seeming to close in, suffused by the energy emanating from Wanda. Strange watched the growing purple magic, a harbinger of apocalypse, and knew he was losing the battle.

“If you go down this path, Wanda, there’s no turning back,” he said, his voice desperate. “You’ll destroy everything.”

She didn’t hesitate, not for a second. “I’ve already lost everything, Strange. Do you think I care about losing the rest?”

With a gesture, she pushed him away, an invisible barrier preventing him from coming closer. Strange stood helplessly as Wanda closed her eyes and surrendered completely to the power consuming her.

In that moment, she was no longer just the Scarlet Witch. She was a woman willing to burn the universe just to feel the warmth of her family once more.

[...]

In the heart of the grove, where sunlight filtered through the trees like golden tears, a faceless woman walked, her steps gentle on the leaf-strewn earth. Her garments were ancient, imposing in their simplicity, and her brown hair danced with the wind. She cradled a baby, small and fragile, in her arms. The baby nestled against her, seeking solace in her presence, its lips curving softly as it fed on the life she offered.

The love between them was palpable, almost visible, like a warm, comforting aura spreading through the surroundings. Every gesture, every sigh of the woman seemed imbued with infinite tenderness, a devotion that transcended time. Yet, there was sadness in her eyes, something that couldn’t be erased by the sweetness of the moment. She seemed burdened by guilt, as if something had been lost or broken, something that could not be mended, even in the warmth of maternal love.

And then, in the shadow of the trees, another woman appeared, her eyes silently observing. She stood at a distance, but her presence was unmistakable, as if she knew that scene, those moments, from an immemorial time. Her gaze was full of love but also profound sorrow, a sadness that seemed to span across all past lives. She watched the woman with the baby as though she somehow knew what the future held for them. There was no fear, only a serene, painful acceptance of something that could not be changed.

In that moment, you feared for their lives, feared for the fate looming over the faceless woman and her child. But then, as you looked closer, the fear dissipated. The observing woman’s gaze was one of pure, almost unconditional love, as if that baby were a promise, a continuity of something greater, something that transcended the lines of time and life.

Their love, the silent and eternal bond, echoed in your soul like a distant melody, and you felt that perhaps this was the true essence of what you had always sought: a family, a deep connection, something that defies time and space.

But the dream dissolved quickly, like a soft breeze at dawn, and you woke, lost and confused, to the sound of Seline’s cries, still so small, still so vulnerable.

The dream was still vivid in your mind as you woke, breathless and disoriented, your eyes adjusting to the dimness of the unfamiliar room. Seline’s cries, weak and hungry, pierced the quiet, reminding you of reality. She was with you, she was your daughter, but something felt wrong. The disorientation lingered, and the world around you felt distant, as if you were trapped between two worlds.

The room was gloomy, the dim light barely illuminating the outlines of the walls, and the sound of Seline's crying seemed to echo in the back of your mind. You felt a crushing pressure on your chest—a mix of disorientation and anger, the heat of growing fear spreading through every part of your being. When Agatha and Rio entered, something in the atmosphere shifted—a heavy, tense silence.

"But look who’s awake—the Guardian herself," Agatha murmured sharply, her piercing eyes fixed on you. Her tone carried an air of superiority, as if she were studying a chess piece she already knew how to maneuver.

Instinct took over. The desperation and need to protect your daughter made you rise quickly from the bed, your body heavy and almost uncontrollable. Your eyes locked on Seline, lying there so vulnerable. Your arms stretched toward her, frantic, as though it was the last thing you could do to save her.

"How do you know about this?" you demanded, your voice tearing through the air with a raw, defiant edge. There was no room for doubt or weakness now—not with Seline so close.

Agatha smirked slightly, her dark eyes gleaming with a mixture of sarcasm and knowing. "Oh, dear… I know so many things," she replied smoothly, as though discussing something trivial. Her confidence was infuriating.

You took a step toward them, your gaze locked on Agatha, a flicker of magic starting to tingle in your hands, ready to be unleashed. But as you extended your fingers, expecting the energy to flow as it always did, something was wrong. The power didn’t manifest. The emptiness inside you was worse than any physical pain. Where was the necklace? Where was the artifact that gave your magic the strength to fight? Frustration turned to dread.

"I can’t..." your voice faltered for a moment, your eyes darting to the emptiness. You felt powerless, as if all the forces around you had been stripped away. The vulnerability was unbearable.

Agatha observed your discomfort with amused eyes, as though she had anticipated your every move. "You do know, don’t you, that without that necklace, you're nothing more than an ordinary woman?" she said softly, her malice veiled, but you wouldn’t be fooled by her calm demeanor.

Before you could respond, Rio Vidal stepped forward, her eyes as silent as her presence. She seemed like the calm to Agatha’s storm. "You and your daughter are not mere Guardians, my dear," she said with an unsettling softness, her words hanging heavily in the air. "You have a destiny far greater, something that transcends the role you think you play."

Confusion swelled in your chest, and you felt as though the ground was crumbling beneath you. Something greater? What did they mean by that?

Before you could question further, Agatha stepped forward, her lips curling into a triumphant smile. "You and Seline are part of something much larger, much grander than the simple protection of the Infinite," she said, pausing to let her revelation linger before continuing, "You are key pieces in a greater plan—one you don’t even comprehend yet. The fate of the entire universe is intertwined with yours."

The shock was immediate, like a cold blade piercing your heart. You felt the weight of Agatha’s words as an overwhelming burden. The idea that your daughter—that you—were mere pawns in a far vaster game… It seemed impossible, implausible. Yet, somehow, you felt a strange truth in it all.

Your mind began to spin, the pieces slowly falling into place, but doubt, fear, and anger filled your heart. How could this be true? How could anyone use your daughter and you this way? But, deep down, you knew there was more behind all of it, something far beyond what you could imagine.

The air in the room grew even denser as your words came out, weak and trembling but laced with venomous concern. "Where is Wanda? The boys?" you asked, your voice low, almost breaking, as if every word was a painful effort. The emptiness in your chest only grew.

Agatha observed you, her eyes annoyingly calm, as if your pain were merely a temporary distraction. "Wanda?" she repeated, chuckling lightly. "Poor Wanda… Do you really think she can do anything against me?" Agatha’s arrogance was palpable, as though she were speaking of a child who hadn’t yet realized how insignificant they were.

You tried to focus, but your mind was still hazy, the physical and mental pain making it harder to think clearly. The worry for Wanda and the children, the fear of not knowing what had happened to them—it was all suffocating.

"Wanda... She will kill you..." The threat slipped out without a filter, a whisper laced with anger and apprehension. But to your surprise, Agatha seemed utterly unbothered. On the contrary, she let out a quiet, almost mocking laugh.

Agatha crossed her arms, slowly approaching. "Oh, dear," she began, her voice soft but dripping with venom. "I know exactly what Wanda is capable of. And I know what she cannot do. I am more than prepared for anything she might try," she said with overwhelming confidence, as if the future were already written and she knew exactly where you and Wanda fit into the story.

The fear you felt for Wanda, for your children, for everything that was happening, quickly turned into a wave of fury. She wasn’t just playing with you; she was toying with everyone’s lives. But what scared you most was how completely she seemed to have control over everything. And so far, you didn’t even know where to start fighting back.

Agatha was smiling, a look of malicious satisfaction on her face, as if she knew exactly what was about to happen. "I know her so well that I can tell she will arrive in 3… 2… 1…" Agatha said, her voice calm and brimming with confidence. She barely had time to finish her sentence before a deafening noise shook the cabin's roof, making the walls vibrate.

The sound came from outside, powerful, a crash so loud it felt as if the sky itself were collapsing. Agatha laughed, a low, satisfied sound. "Maximoffs… Always so punctual, aren’t they?" She turned toward the door as if she had been expecting the impact of Wanda’s arrival.

But before you could react, dark energy rose in the air—a magic ancient and powerful—wrapping around your wrists and ankles. You struggled, but the magical chains tightened around you, immobilizing your body with inhuman strength. Your hands were bound, unable to cast any spells. You screamed, trying to break free, but the chains only tightened, as though they were draining your energy.

"No!" You screamed, your voice desperate as you felt panic take hold of you. The magical chains bound you in place, and the feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. The scream echoed through the room, piercing the walls, and your eyes frantically searched for Seline, only to see her being taken by Rio. Every movement Rio made was smooth but deadly precise, as if she had calculated every second, every gesture. She was moving away, Seline in her arms, far from your protection.

"Seline!" you cried out, the desperation in your voice more evident than ever.

At that moment, the energy in the room shifted. The air grew dense, heavier, and a wave of power filled the space. Wanda's eyes glowed a deep red, and a burst of scarlet energy swept through the cabin's entrance, throwing Agatha and Rio backward with force. The Scarlet Witch was there.

"Wanda!" you called out, your heart pounding harder at the sight of her entering, her hair floating around her like flames, anger burning in her eyes. She looked at you with a single glance that carried the fury of a storm.

Agatha, however, didn't seem surprised by Wanda's arrival. She straightened, smiling at her with the confidence only she could exude. "I see you've arrived... and with company, I see... Afraid, darling?" Agatha said, her arrogance boundless.

"Get out of my way, Agatha," Wanda replied, her voice as cold as ice. She raised her hand, and an explosion of red magic lit up the room, but Agatha dodged effortlessly, her smile never wavering.

"You don't understand, Wanda," Agatha hissed. "The girl and your daughter are just tools for a much greater purpose. A purpose far beyond anything you can control."

"Don't you dare touch them," Wanda growled, the magic around her growing even more intense.

At that moment, Rio prepared to cast another spell but was interrupted when Natasha, Captain Marvel, and the other Avengers stormed in with overwhelming force. Thor roared, his hammer carrying the weight of all thunder as he charged at Agatha's forces, breaking the magical barriers.

But Agatha wasn't willing to back down. She raised a hand, conjuring a storm of purple energy that swept across the battlefield, potent magic filled with intent.

Wanda focused, her magic becoming an unstoppable force, rivaling Agatha's. The two powers collided, creating a wave of energy that shook the ground, and the battle between the two witches was breathtaking. But deep down, you knew this fight was much more than just a battle of magic. It was a fight for your family, for Seline, for everyone she loved.

The unfolding battle was indescribable, a clash of powers that seemed to defy the laws of reality. Wanda, her scarlet energy radiating from her body like an uncontrollable wildfire, stood against Agatha Harkness, whose smile was as sharp as a blade. Yet something even more threatening was about to reveal itself.

Rio Vidal, with her quiet and haunting presence, seemed merely an observer, but there was something in her eyes—something that made the air around her feel colder, denser. She was still, but her aura of death was unmistakable. It was as if life itself was being drained away from her, and her power extended far beyond mere witchcraft, something much older, more primordial.

Rio spoke in a low voice, dripping with silent malice: "You are dealing with something far beyond your comprehension."

The red light around Wanda intensified, but before she could react, Rio moved with supernatural agility. She raised a hand, and instantly the air seemed to freeze. An absolute silence fell over the room, as if the world had stopped breathing.

The spell Rio cast was instant and ruthless. The shadows around her stretched out like tendrils, engulfing the space and beginning to consume everything around.

The energy seemed to erode the very essence of life, and the shadows swallowed the Avengers one by one, as if they were being torn apart by an invisible force. Thor's hammer was flung away, the light of its energy disappearing before the shadows. The sight of the chains of death that Rio created was terrifying, as though the fabric of reality itself was being torn apart.

But the worst was yet to come. With a simple wave of her hand, Rio Vidal summoned a torrent of energy that erupted from the ground like a hurricane, a black, pulsating wave that consumed everything in its path. It was Death itself personified, a primordial force that even Wanda seemed unable to contain.

"That's what's truly terrifying, Wanda," Rio said, her voice as cold as the winds of death. "I am the true mistress of the end."

When Rio looked directly at Wanda, the aura of Death around her intensified, and the room was filled with a crushing pressure, as if the entire weight of the universe was being compressed into a single point. The sensation of death spread through the atsmosphere like a fog, and Wanda's strength, as powerful as it was, began to waver under Rio's absolute dominance.

But Wanda was not one to give in so easily. She raised her hands, and a burst of scarlet power swept through the room. The clash between Death and the Scarlet Witch was like the collision of two opposing elemental forces. The energy exploded in the air, creating a wave that made the walls tremble and the lights flicker.

"You can't stop me, Rio!" Wanda shouted, her voice full of fury and pain. "You don't stop a woman like me."

The streaks of red energy collided with Rio's shadows, and the impact generated a shockwave that shook the foundations of the room. It was as if the very air was being torn apart, the two powers clashing with a violence that almost destroyed the space around them.

Yet despite Wanda's overwhelming power, Rio continued to resist, her shadow of Death enveloping everything around her. Her presence made everything seem dark, hopeless, and for a moment, it seemed as if the balance between life and death might be disrupted.

"You'll need more than anger to defeat me, Wanda," Rio said, an enigmatic smile on her lips. "I am the natural order of all things, baby."

Wanda, however, was not willing to back down. The sight of Seline, still far from her, was all she needed to fuel her determination. She would not let death defeat her. Not again.

Tony Stark, with his usual irreverence, watched Agatha with a cynical smile as he adjusted his battle gloves. He faced the powerful witch, analyzing her with the eyes of someone about to deliver a comment to make the situation even more interesting.

"So, Agatha, is it?" Tony began, making an exaggerated gesture toward the witch's dress. "Is that medieval witchcraft look trending? You're really channeling that 'evil grandma' vibe, or is it just your personal style?"

Agatha, without losing her composure, shot him a frosty glare. "Oh. So, you think this is a joke?"

Tony shrugged, feigning indifference to the veiled threat. "Of course. Who wouldn’t want to be a supervillain with such... unique style?" He then paused, eyeing her up and down with exaggerated flair. "I’d say you and Mother Nature over there are in a fierce competition for who has more branches on their head, but, well, you’ve already won."

Rio, focused on the battle and beginning to feel the tension, wasn’t amused. The jealous look she shot Tony was immediate. She was ready to intervene, no matter what it took.

Agatha, with a sly smile, was about to reply with more venom, but before she could, Rio made a swift motion with her hand, releasing a wave of dark energy toward Tony.

"I think this little chat has gone on long enough, tin man," Rio said, her voice soft yet menacing.

The energy engulfed Tony in an explosion of shadows, leaving him barely enough time to react. The fight between Wanda and Agatha momentarily took a backseat as Rio attacked with the intensity of a storm. The humor vanished in an instant, replaced by a new, deadlier tension.

"Little Death," Tony coughed out, still wearing his signature smirk. "I knew it was only a matter of time before your lesbian jealousy kicked in and you lost your patience, but I didn’t think it’d be this quick. Also, this suit is brand new, and—"

Agatha glanced at Rio with a victorious smile, as if fully aware that Rio’s unexpected action had drawn all the attention away from the battlefield.

And then, magically, the man’s mouth was gone.

"Sometimes, tin man, the best answer is the simplest: shut up."

The battlefield around you was chaos. Energy beams, spells, and explosions filled the air, but in the depths of your mind, the only sound you could hear was the voice of your deepest instincts—a soft, commanding voice echoing within your being:

Shine for us. Shine for them.

It was as if the voice spoke directly to your soul, guiding you, awakening something ancient and divine within you. The pain that followed was unbearable—tearing through your flesh, your bones, your mortality. Yet instead of fear, you felt a surge of power, a growing force from within. And as you opened your eyes, you saw your mortal shell disintegrating, revealing something far greater.

You ascended, soaring skyward, the energy emanating from you illuminating the battlefield with a golden light that drew every gaze. Your power was absolute. You were glorious. It was as though the cosmos itself bowed before your essence.

The air around you shifted. The world paused for a second.

Your bones seemed to restructure into something stronger, more resilient. Your skin glowed as if made of starlight. Then, with a triumphant burst, massive wings of light erupted from your back, each beat powerful enough to make the heavens part in reverence. You felt an uncontrollable power within you, the energy of the universe coursing through your veins. With a single push, you shattered the magical restraints Rio had cast upon you.

Agatha, usually so composed and full of words, was silent, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open, unable to comprehend what had just transpired.

“No…” Agatha whispered, as if the vision before her was an abomination, but in truth, it was the manifestation of what you truly were.

Below you, Wanda looked up, her eyes shining with a reverence she had never shown before. She saw you in a new light, transcendent and divine. Not just as the Guardian, not just as her wife and the mother of her child, but as a force of nature—someone beyond time and space. Her eyes were filled with adoration, her soul touched by the sight of you—glorious, powerful, something beyond human yet undeniably hers.

You needed no words. There was no need. The light emanating from you said it all. She rose toward you, as if you were the reason for existence itself. She knew you were the future, the beginning, and the end.

You felt your power expanding, and as you looked at Wanda, you knew the fight wasn’t over. But now, more than ever, you had the strength to fight for her, for Seline, for everyone you loved.

You shone, and everyone could see it now.

The sound of your wings beating was almost ethereal, a striking contrast to the devastated battlefield. You landed gracefully, your golden glow bringing an indescribable calm to the chaos. Wanda gazed at you, her eyes full of questions and hesitation. You, however, gave her a serene, confident smile and spoke with a voice that seemed to embrace her soul:

"Go get the children, my love."

It was a command, yet also a plea. Wanda hesitated for a moment, but then, as if the peace in your voice melted away any doubt, she nodded and disappeared into the horizon. For a moment, the war felt like a distant memory.

You turned to Agatha and Rio. Your golden eyes met Rio’s, filled with suppressed rage and palpable fear. Without a word, you took a step forward, facing her. The tension was suffocating. But something in your gaze—a mix of understanding and respect—disarmed her. Rio swallowed hard, her powerful demeanor faltering, and then, against all expectations, she gave a slight nod, allowing you to approach Agatha. Deep in her eyes, there was something more profound: silent tears of understanding only she possessed.

You walked slowly toward Agatha, who watched you with a confused and defensive expression. When you stopped in front of her, she raised her chin as if to challenge anything you might say or do. But you didn’t attack. Instead, your hand rose slowly, touching her cheek with a tenderness that completely caught her off guard.

"I see you…" you whispered, your words carrying the weight of ages. Your eyes glowed brighter, as if unraveling every thread of pain and suffering she had ever endured in the palm of your hand. "Your pain. You are ambitious… and you’ve carved painful paths for yourself."

Agatha’s mask began to crumble. Her eyes welled up, and for the first time in a long time, she looked vulnerable. There was no sarcastic laughter, no taunts—only a woman whose story was being laid bare, with no place to hide.

"Close your eyes, Agatha."

You tilted your head, silently conveying that no harm would come of it. After a long pause, Agatha huffed reluctantly and closed her eyes.

"And why should I?" she snapped, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and insecurity. But her guard was down now, just enough for you to notice the doubt in her stance.

The world around her dissolved. When she opened her eyes again, they were in a completely different place: a tranquil forest bathed in a soft, golden light. It was the same forest from your dreams. The air was heavy with memories but also carried something purer, more sincere.

Agatha glanced around, confused, and then her eyes fixed on something in the distance: a woman in old-fashioned clothing, cradling a baby to her chest. She seemed lost in thought, her face obscured by shadows, but the love in her gestures was unmistakable. Behind her, another figure watched with care, filled with reverence and an overwhelming sadness.

"You're the little boy's mother, aren't you?" you asked, your voice gentle but precise. Agatha's body stiffened beside you. She didn't respond immediately, but you felt the tension growing like a storm about to break.

"What do you know about that?" Agatha finally asked, her voice low and dangerous, but tinged with something deeper: fear.

You turned your gaze to her, your eyes gleaming with a light that seemed to uncover every piece of her soul. "I know enough, Agatha. And now, you will too."

The air in the forest pulsed with energy, every leaf and branch vibrating with the weight of the moment. Agatha remained rigid beside you, her eyes locked on the woman in the distance. When you mentioned the name "Nicholas," something inside her seemed to shatter. She took a step back, as if fleeing were an option.

"I can't..." she murmured, her voice almost inaudible but laden with weight. "Nicholas would never forgive me if he saw all the terrible things I've done."

You looked at her, the light in your eyes growing brighter as if trying to illuminate the shadows she carried. "Are you so certain of that, Agatha? Or is that just fear speaking? Shame?"

Agatha let out a dry laugh, devoid of humor. "Fear? Shame? Perhaps both. Do you know what I've done? How many lives I've taken? He... he was just a boy, and I... I lost everything trying to bring him back." Her voice broke at the end, and you saw the tears already streaming down her face.

You stepped closer, your presence radiating calm and understanding. "You’ve lost so much, Agatha. I know that. But hiding behind guilt won’t change what happened. Nor will it undo what you’ve done."

"I don't deserve his forgiveness!" Agatha shouted, her voice echoing through the forest. "How could I? I betrayed everything he stood for. I became... something he would never recognize."

You shook your head slowly, your expression full of empathy. "And yet, he’s here. Because his love for you is greater than any mistake you’ve made."

Agatha squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out your words, but they had already pierced deep. "You don’t understand... I’ve seen the looks of those who hated me. Who feared me. He would do the same."

"You don’t know that," you replied, your voice firm yet gentle. "What you’re truly afraid of is believing that he could still love you. What if I told you he already forgave you, Agatha? That all he wants is to see you, to touch you, to feel the love you still carry for him?"

Agatha opened her eyes, the weight in her gaze almost tangible. "What if I can’t? What if I... what if I fail him again?"

You smiled—a sad but resolute smile. "You’ll only fail if you don’t try. Come. See him. Not for you, but for him. He deserves this, Agatha."

She hesitated, her breathing unsteady as her eyes returned to the scene ahead. The boy let out a soft laugh in the woman’s arms, and the sound seemed to break through every defense Agatha had built. Finally, with a heavy sigh, she nodded, her steps slow and unsure as you guided her.

"If he hates me..." she began, but you interrupted her.

"Then you’ll show him that, despite everything, the love you feel is real. And that he will always be your son."

As Agatha took each step toward the boy, a storm of emotions consumed her. It was as if every memory, every decision, every mistake hit her all at once. She remembered the witches she had deceived and betrayed, their faces still vivid in her mind. Some had begged for mercy, others had fought to the end, but all had fallen for her singular goal.

Flashes of her spells, the marks of her ambition etched into her opponents, and the screams of her victims haunted her. The lies she told, the alliances she destroyed—everything she did to achieve something she knew she could never reach on her own: Nicholas. Her boy.

Then came Seline. Her plan to use her had been calculated, almost mechanical at first. She was just a tool, a key to unlock the only thing that mattered. But the idea of taking something so pure, so innocent, to fuel her obsession... it ate away at her.

The boy’s soft cries pulled Agatha back to the present. Her thoughts were still heavy with guilt and regret, but that pure, innocent sound cut through like a blade. When she looked ahead, she saw you cradling the small baby, your posture serene as you murmured softly:

"You came from scratch..." Your words were almost a whisper, but they carried an ancient power, echoing in Agatha’s heart as if they were memories from another life. They were the same words she had once spoken, in a moment of vulnerability and magic.

Agatha's blue eyes brimmed with tears, unable to hold back the drops that slowly rolled down her cheeks. She couldn't look away from the boy—so small, so fragile, yet carrying the weight of her entire story.

You paused, your eyes glowing with an intense golden hue, as though something beyond the physical world had been revealed to you. Then, the vision came—clear and vibrant: Nicholas, now grown, running through a flower-filled garden, his laughter echoing like music. His brown hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead as he played joyfully. Beside him, a little girl with bright eyes and a radiant smile ran along, their bond of camaraderie evident.

The vision brought a genuine smile to your face, filled with satisfaction and peace. "Fate has drawn the right lines this time," you thought, feeling lighter, as though something greater had fallen into balance again.

When you offered the baby to Agatha, she hesitated. Her hands trembled, the thin, scarred fingers hovering in the air, almost afraid to touch him. At last, she took him into her arms, holding him with a gentleness that seemed incongruent with her hardened and imposing demeanor.

"Find your path again, Agatha," you said, your voice soft but firm, filled with an inescapable truth.

Agatha looked at you, still reluctant to let her facade crumble completely. "I’ll never forget this," she replied, her tone attempting to mask her vulnerability, but her tears betrayed her stoicism.

You smiled sweetly, almost maternally, as though you understood every barrier she tried to erect. "You won’t need to," you replied, your certainty shining like the stars.

As Agatha held Nicholas, something within her shifted. The weight of guilt didn’t vanish, but for the first time in millennia, a small spark of hope and redemption began to grow. The boy stopped crying and wrapped his tiny hand around her finger, and in that simple gesture, Agatha felt that maybe—just maybe—she could be something more than she had been until now.

[...]

The Christmas dinner was about to begin. Guests were likely already arriving, the laughter and chatter of children echoing through the house adorned with golden lights and wreaths. But you and Wanda were late. More than that: unavailable.

Upstairs, in the bedroom, things were far from festive—at least, in the conventional sense.

Wanda had pushed you onto the bed with an almost predatory hunger as soon as you crossed the door. Her eyes were dark, glowing with a lust that made you forget everything else. Her fingers trailed your skin with precision, as if she wanted to mark every inch of you before any of the guests downstairs had the chance to see you.

“You know they’re waiting for us…” you murmured between gasps, trying to sound responsible but failing miserably. Your fingers were tangled in Wanda’s hair, tugging slightly as she bit your neck.

“They can wait.” Her voice was low, heavy with desire. “You’re my present, and I’m not sharing.”

She kissed you again, this time more fiercely, as if trying to consume every breath you took. The touch of her hands on your thighs, moving slowly upward, sent a shiver through your entire body.

"My pretty little girl looks so beautiful today." Her fingers moved to your clothes, tugging at the fabric impatiently. "But I prefer you like this—naked. Mine. Only mine."

The possessive declaration made your heart race. Wanda had always been like this—intense, consuming—but today, there was something more. A kind of urgency, as though every second away from you had been unbearable.

“If anyone downstairs dares to ask where you are,” she murmured against your neck, biting softly before moving up to your lips, “I’ll tell them the truth. That you’re here. Wide open for me. Screaming my name.”

You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips, and Wanda smiled against your skin. “Mommy...”

"Do you like that idea, my doll? Everyone knowing you belong to me?"

You nodded frantically, incapable of forming a coherent response as her fingers traced slow, torturous circles over your most sensitive spot.

“They’ll hear you,” Wanda whispered, increasing the pace. “They’ll hear you begging for me.”

Your body began to arch against the mattress, your moans turning into something deeper, more primal. And Wanda was ecstatic, watching you like this—so vulnerable, so surrendered. She knew that no one, absolutely no one, would ever see you like this. Not even in their wildest dreams.

“Come on…” She tilted her head, her lips brushing your ear. “Give me everything. Show me who you really are when you’re with me. My precious little slut. My angel.”

It was as if something inside you shattered. The pleasure that had been building erupted, spreading through your body like liquid fire, consuming every thought, every sensation, until all that remained was Wanda. Wanda and pure, unfiltered ecstasy.

And then it happened.

You screamed her name, the sound reverberating through the room, and at that moment, your wings emerged.

Massive, majestic wings made of light and shadow exploded from your back. They spread with a snap, illuminating the room like a celestial display. Their weight made the mattress sink slightly, and the air around you crackled with an otherworldly energy.

Wanda froze for a moment, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her. It was always breathtaking when it happened. You were transformed. Radiant. Divine.

But the surprise quickly gave way to adoration.

“Fuck…” Wanda murmured, her eyes gleaming with something almost reverent. She ran her hand over the feathers of your wings, feeling their soft, ethereal texture. “You… you’re so beautiful.”

Her touch on your wings sent a delightful shiver down your spine. It was as if the wings were an extension of your own nerves, sensitive to her touch, reacting to the slightest movement.

“I love your wings,” Wanda said in a low, almost reverent tone as her fingers glided over the soft feathers. There was something different in her voice—not just admiration, but a hint of possessiveness, as if those wings were an extension of her, something she had awakened in you.

You let out a short laugh, still trying to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "If I’m an angel, then what does that make you? A demon?"

Wanda lifted her gaze, a slow, dangerous smile curving her lips. Her eyes gleamed with something between pride and desire, but there was also a touch of darkness—a reminder that, although you were shining now, it was she who had ignited this flame.

“A demon?” she murmured, leaning in to brush her lips against yours. “No… something worse. Something that corrupts naive little girls like you. Something that makes them want to surrender to their own darkness.”

A shiver ran down your spine as her words wrapped around you like invisible threads, binding you again to that place between devotion and submission.

“Don’t forget that,” Wanda continued, her tone firm and possessive but tinged with the kind of tenderness only she could offer. “Everything you are now—your light, your wings, even the strength you feel—it’s all a part of me. I planted it in you. And I will never let you forget.”

Your wings trembled slightly under her touch, as if they themselves responded to that truth. You smiled, closing your eyes for a moment as you let it all sink in.

“Then maybe I am your angel,” you whispered, opening your eyes to meet her burning gaze. “But you will always be my darkness.”

Wanda’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile before she kissed you again—a kiss filled with unspoken promises, with a love that burned and illuminated at once.

“My light,” she murmured against your lips, her fingers still tracing along the feathers of your wings. “And I, your chaos.”

Wanda smirked, a proud, satisfied expression crossing her face. She pulled you into a deep, slow kiss, as if sealing the moment between you two. When she pulled away, her intense gaze burned into yours, leaving a heat on your skin.

“Now, my light,” she whispered, “let’s head downstairs. I’m sure our guests have arrived—or, at the very least, the kids are planning to set the house on fire.”

You chuckled softly, a charming sound that lit the air. “On Christmas night? They wouldn’t want to miss out on pie…”

As you descended the stairs, the house was alive with laughter and noise. The doorbell rang persistently, accompanied by the sounds of Tommy tugging at Sparky in an animated tug-of-war. Billy, unfazed by the chaos, stood near the fireplace, angling for the perfect selfie. Seline, ever curious, crouched by the Christmas tree, shaking gifts in an attempt to guess their contents.

“Ah, so they do want to miss out on dessert,” you remarked, raising your eyebrows as Wanda sighed, crossing her arms and shooting a sharp look at the trio.

“Definitely no pie.”

“Tommy, let go of the dog. Billy, put the phone away. Seline…” Wanda paused, searching for the right words as she caught the little girl using her magic to peel back a piece of wrapping paper. “If I hear even one piece of tape tearing, you’d better be ready to explain to the pumpkin pie why you won’t be eating it.”

At the sound of Wanda’s voice, Seline quickly stood up and pointed at the gifts.

“I was just checking! I promise I didn’t open any!” she said, hands raised as though surrendering.

Wanda shook her head, sighing. “How does she have your entire personality?” she muttered to you, though there was a glint of pride in her eyes.

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang again—this time longer and more impatient.

“If it’s not them, whoever it is is about to get a lesson in patience,” Wanda grumbled as you moved to answer the door.

The moment you opened it, Nicholas darted inside like a ray of sunshine against the snow outside. He practically leapt into your arms, his wide smile lighting up his face.

“Auntie!” he exclaimed, brimming with the kind of energy only a child could have. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, making you crouch to hug him back.

In his small hands, a shiny wrapped box dangled precariously. From the way he clutched it, you knew exactly who it was for. The sparkle in Nicholas’ eyes, mixed with innocent anticipation, warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

You smiled, keeping your voice low so only he could hear. “Hey, sweetheart. Seline’s just by the tree. She hasn’t stopped talking about you for a second.”

Nicholas’ brown eyes widened, a different kind of sparkle dancing in them—something between happiness and a shy sweetness you rarely saw in him. He didn’t reply, just nodded quickly before darting in the direction you’d indicated, his steps light and eager.

Leaning against the doorframe, you watched the little ones. Nicholas placed the box carefully beside Seline, who, curious as ever, leaned in to open it—but not without glancing at him first, as though seeking permission.

The scene was so simple, yet in that moment, you saw your vision from months ago coming to life. The children’s laughter filled the air, exactly as it had in the image of the future destiny had shown you.

Nicholas, his messy brown hair damp with a light sheen of sweat, extended something small and golden to Seline. She, with Wanda’s eyes but a mischievous smile that was unmistakably her own, took the object carefully. And suddenly, as if time paused for a brief instant, you knew the line of destiny had been drawn perfectly.

You turned to find Wanda standing beside you. There was something in the way she looked at Seline and Nicholas—a mix of protectiveness, unease, and that playful jealousy she always pretended was stronger than it actually was.

Behind Nicholas came Agatha, draped in an elegant purple coat that seemed more fit for a queen than a family dinner. Her eyes swept the room with that familiar blend of veiled criticism and sly amusement that was her trademark.

“Well, what a charming Christmas tableau,” she commented, her tone almost sweet but sufficiently loaded to raise suspicion. “You still insist on keeping the tree so over-the-top, Wanda? It looks like every branch is in existential crisis, torn between too much decoration or total collapse.”

Wanda appeared in the doorway, her gaze sharp as a freshly honed blade. “Better over-the-top than monochromatic and dreary, Agatha. At least the kids don’t leave crying, thinking they’ve stumbled into a haunted mansion.”

Agatha’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Monochromatic is refined, dear. But I understand—not everyone has the capacity to appreciate subtlety. Some people need… twinkling lights to mask their lack of taste.”

Wanda crossed her arms, leaning slightly forward. “And some people need constant sarcasm to mask the fact that the last Christmas they celebrated was in the Middle Ages, isn’t that right?”

Agatha theatrically huffed. “Oh, Wanda, always so dramatic. It’s almost inspiring. But you know what’s even more inspiring? The courage to wear so much red and not look like a department store decoration.”

Wanda sweetly smiled, that dangerous smile you knew so well. “Says the expert in purple, the favorite color of villains in children’s books.”

At that moment, Rio walked into the room, casually adjusting her necklace while looking at the two of them with an expression of long-suffering patience. “You two never get tired, do you?”

Both women scoffed, making you laugh as you gathered the coats.

“Wine?” you asked, gesturing toward the table.

“Red,” Rio replied.

“Excellent choice.”

As you approached the table to fetch the glasses of wine for the women, you felt Wanda’s warm body embrace you from behind. The small, subtle kiss placed just behind your ear made you blush, as always.

When you separated, Wanda whispered to you, “They’re not leaving anytime soon, are they?”

You chuckled softly, squeezing her hand. “Of course not. It’s Christmas, love. And you know they’re our family now.”

Wanda let out an indignant sigh, but with that mischievous smile only she could pull off. “Fine, we’ll endure it. If we stay here too long, someone might set the house on fire, and I’m almost sure it’ll be Agatha.”

Right after, a loud, indignant voice rang out, making everyone in the room turn their heads toward its owner. “Do you know how long it’s been since I set a house on fire?” Agatha retorted, her impeccable posture daring the world.

“Agatha...” Rio warned, her eyes trying to bring calm but tinged with resignation.

“What? I’ve never set a house on fire!” she said, half-offended, half-joking.

“Really? But what about when the White House caught fire that year?” you teased, settling on the armrest of a chair, bringing a glass for yourself and one for Wanda.

Agatha grimaced, clearly displeased at being reminded of that incident. “Oh, that was an accident! I was trying to give Rio... a romantic surprise.” She paused, and everyone looked at her, waiting for more details. “I wanted a candlelit dinner, with fireworks at the end… I got a little carried away, and, well, the White House turned into an impromptu bonfire. But it wasn’t that bad! She loved it!”

“Of course I loved it,” Rio responded with a light laugh. “Who wouldn’t be touched by seeing a historic building go up in flames in the name of love?”

“But I... I’m getting better,” Agatha continued, trying to regain control of the situation.

“You always have an excuse, don’t you, Agatha?” Wanda decided to prod, poking at the woman’s ego.

You glanced at Wanda, who was laughing at the situation but with a touch of concern in her eyes. “Ah… But you’ve got your stories too, my dear,” you whispered to Wanda, making her blush slightly.

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Wanda murmured, raising a hand as if to ward off memories of a past disaster. “One thing’s for sure: if any house catches fire here, Agatha will be the first one blamed.”

The light-hearted mood continued, with everyone laughing and trading barbs, but the energy was undeniably warm. The house was full of life, laughter, and stories, and amidst it all, love was clearly present. Whether between Agatha and Rio or everyone there, something magical lingered in the air—without any fires in sight... for now.

The table was elegantly set, with cod dishes, colorful sides, and glasses clinking with wine flowing generously. Christmas at Wanda’s house was always a mix of magic and chaos, especially now, with Agatha and Rio unofficially mentoring the twins. Dinner, as usual, was filled with banter and laughter.

Tommy, brimming with the typical energy of his 18 years, spoke about his college indecision. “Berkeley seems like a good option… But maybe Stanford? Who knows, I might just flip a coin to decide.”

Wanda rolled her eyes with a playful smile. “Tommy, darling, the universe already handles enough chaos without you flipping coins for life decisions.”

“Exactly, Tommy,” Billy joined in the teasing, “because clearly chaos didn’t start with your habit of being late for everything.”

Laughter rippled through the table, but at some point, Billy’s expression turned thoughtful. He held his glass with exaggerated drama, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Everyone, I think it’s time for a revelation.”

Eyes turned to him, some curious, others with a humorous glint, already predicting what was coming. Billy paused, a true actor on stage, and announced:

“I’m gay.”

A second—maybe two, if someone wanted to exaggerate—of silence fell over the table. Then, collective laughter erupted like a wave.

“Wow, Billy, that was quite the revelation!” Agatha said with a sarcastic smile. “I think we’ll need a moment of silence to process that.”

“Absolutely shocking!” Rio declared, theatrically clutching her chest. “Must be why you spent an hour helping Wanda pick out the most stylish Christmas lights for the porch.”

Billy chuckled, blushing slightly but enjoying the reaction. “Okay, fine. I get it. That was about as shocking as saying the sky is blue.”

“Sweetheart, you ran out my anti-frizz cream,” you teased, laughing.

Wanda raised her glass, her eyes shining with affection. “Billy, darling, I’ll just say this: I’m your mother. I knew before you did. I just waited to see when you’d decide to tell us.”

“By the way,” Agatha interjected with a mischievous grin, “since we’re in a mood for revelations, Tommy, is there something you’d like to share?”

Tommy nearly choked on his juice, his eyes wide. “Me? No! I’m good, thanks. Pass.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, her expression amused. “Relax, Tommy. If you’ve got nothing to share now, we’ll wait. But only until next Christmas, okay?”

The boy shook his head, laughing nervously as everyone enjoyed his flustered state.

Amid the teasing and jokes, dinner remained light and welcoming, with Billy visibly relieved and Wanda watching the scene with a maternal smile. There was magic in that house—both literal and figurative. And while Agatha and Rio’s mentorship helped the twins shape their gifts, it was these simple moments, full of love and laughter, that truly defined the family they had built.

That night, Christmas wasn’t just about gifts or food. It was about natural acceptance, shared laughter, and the kind of love that turns even the most “shocking” revelations into something genuinely beautiful.

[...]

The night gently fell over the house, the cozy silence enveloping everything around. In the shadows of the bedroom, the soft moonlight touched their intertwined bodies, creating an atmosphere where time seemed to slow down. Wanda lay on her side, her penetrating gaze still filled with frustration, but also immense affection. She had lost herself in her thoughts, her arms wrapped around you, almost as if she wanted to keep you all to herself, only hers. But the restlessness wouldn’t leave her.

Finally, she turned to face you, her expression filled with a complex emotion. "This is so unfair! Having a daughter, only for a man to come and take her away from me," she said, pouting like a petulant child, not realizing that what was unfolding was far more than any possessiveness.

You let out a light laugh, full of tenderness, a laugh that felt more like a silent dance between two souls who understand each other without words. "Man? Nicholas is eight." You smiled, a hint of incredulity in your voice. "Wanda, I know you want to protect Selly, but she’s growing. Fate is set."

And when you said that, the sense of inevitability was palpable. Like an invisible current, unseen, but carrying with it the full power of a universe in motion. It was as if the threads of destiny had already been intertwined long before your eyes met, and now, their hands, young and pure, were beginning to reach out for one another.

But Wanda, always so impulsive, couldn't help but contest. "You’re the guardian, aren’t you? Do something." Her green eyes, filled with an irresistible charm, fixed on you, that glint in her gaze revealing she knew exactly what she was doing. You knew she was using this to try to make you change your mind, but you also knew she was just trying not to accept what, deep down, she already knew was true.

"Wanda..." you warned her, but she huffed, clearly frustrated with the impossibility of controlling what was coming.

"It’s just that the boys are already grown, adults, and she’s still my little girl," she confessed quietly, almost like a weakness, and you felt the weight of it, the fear of losing something she had built with so much love and care. But in truth, the reality was that this love was preparing the ground for something even more beautiful.

"Sweetheart, Selly is crazy about you, just like I am, she wouldn’t trade you for anything." You smiled softly, touching her cheek. "But you know... one day, they’ll have to date for real."

Wanda didn’t like that. She didn’t like to imagine her little girl, so pure and sweet, going into a world where things weren’t simple anymore, where feelings were complicated, where promises and destinies tangled in ways that could no longer be controlled.

"Sure, when she’s thirty and living in Canada." She crossed her arms, as if that was the only way to protect what she loved most.

"Wanda!" You laughed, but deep down, your heart was full of immense love, knowing that Wanda's concern was just another layer of protective affection that ended up making everything more beautiful, more real.

"Alright," Wanda finally said, letting out a sigh of surrender. "Just when she’s thirty, no need to go to Canada."

You sighed, a soft smile on your lips. "Wanda…"

"Alright, twenty-nine..." she relented.

You knew that everything that was to come, everything that was unfolding, was being paved by them in an inevitable way. Like two stars slowly drawing closer, pulled by the gravity of the universe, not even knowing they were destined to merge into a single, powerful glow.

The destinies of Seline and Nicholas had been intertwined from the first breath, like invisible threads connecting them without anyone being able to see. It wasn’t about control. It wasn’t about possessiveness. It was about something deeper, something that only time and love could reveal. And you knew that, when the right time came, they would find each other, not by chance, but because it was what the universe had planned.

And Wanda, as much as she wanted to protect Selly from the world, from all the risks, deep down knew that when the time came, it wouldn’t be a loss. It would be the beginning of a new story that would endure until the end of time.

The Infinite was never about a straight line. It was never about time or space, but about the moments that mark our hearts and change everything. Like fingers intertwining, like eyes meeting, like shared sighs in the silence of a cold night. The Infinite is made of choices, of loves, of losses. It is the memory of every step taken, the hope of each new day.

Being the Guardian of the Infinite is not about power, it’s not about controlling what is eternal. You always imagined it would be something grand, something beyond your understanding, but the truth is that the Infinite hides in the small things. In the smile we give to the people we love. In the gentle touch of a hand that holds ours. In the silent promise we make, without words, but with our whole hearts.

You saw the Infinite not as something distant, but as something so close, so vast and yet so delicate, that it made you feel small. Not in a sense of weakness, but in understanding that love — that feeling so simple and yet so complex — is the true force that holds everything. The Infinite is not in the distant stars, but in what is created between people, in those invisible connections that cannot be explained, only felt.

And it was there, in that moment charged with emotion, that you plunged into your own Crimson Reverie, a state where everything was pulsing, vibrant, full of meaning. The red was not just a color; it was a presence, a mark that represented both the intensity of love and the burning wounds it can bring. The Crimson was your bond, your eternal waking dream, a place where love and chaos intertwined, where you and Wanda existed as inseparable forces.

You came to understand that love has no beginning or end, because it is always there, waiting, silent, waiting for us to embrace it. It grows with us, transforms with us. Sometimes it’s sweet, sometimes it’s bitter, but it’s always real. And when we look at the people we love most, we see how strong those bonds are. They are what remains, what crosses time, what endures pain and distance.

This is how the Infinite reveals itself — not in a snap of fingers or in an explosion of power, but in a simple gesture, in a look. The moment you realized that your destiny was not to be the guardian of something immense and incomprehensible, but to be the guardian of the small moments of love that make up life. You are not just a force that holds time, you are a person, with a story, with loves and choices that make you who you are.

And in the end, it is love that writes the story, that gives meaning to what would be just a chaos of purposeless events. Because it is love that transforms, that heals, that blooms amidst grief, that teaches us to be more human. More vulnerable. And perhaps that’s what makes the Infinite so special: it’s not distant, it’s not cold. The Infinite is made of life, of love, of every person who crossed our path and left a mark. And in every moment, in every breath, the Infinite continues, and perpetuates itself, not in something grand, but in the softness of what unites us.

So, perhaps the secret of the Infinite is this: it’s in the simple act of living, of loving, of making mistakes, of starting over. Of knowing that, in the end, what matters is not how much time we have, but how much we love and allow ourselves to be loved. Because love is what makes us eternal. It is what makes us part of the greatness of the Infinite.

And that is what remains.

~*~

Thanks for following Crimson Reverie! And I wish you find your place in infinity <3

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[guujikaroko]

I gotta say, the relationship between Wanderer and Lumine is incredibly intimate in the weirdest way possible.

Like, she knows the trajectory of his entire life. From the abandoned puppet to the wandering eccentric to the nihilistic Harbinger to the simple drifter. She's seen the memories of 80% of all that AT LEAST.

Lumine has met his facets, pretty much all of them; outward appearances, masks, festering negativity, sorrow, fury, the deep void beneath it all, and what came after too. She has seen him at his very, very worst and has seen him crawl out of there and stand up.

And the Wanderer is... Pretty much okay with that? He doesn't mind at all?? There's isn't embarrassment or anger or anything that implies he might not be comfortable with the Traveler knowing him from inside out??? In fact, since he asked for her to name him, I'd say he pretty much encourages it????

This has kinda been driving me crazy for a while because since when do you get along so well with her, my dude? Was this an Enemies to Lovers thing for you? Are you on the tsundere phase right now? Is she even aware at least?

[thebluester2020]

The Stranger [Pt.1]

Summary: You were a citizen of Natlan. In the nation of the Pyro Archon, you were constantly greeted by bloodshed and violence. A life that kept the finely tuned forces of the nation in balance until it completely shattered with the arrival of the Fatui. And you had the newly arrived Harbinger to thank for that...but, one fateful night it seems, you just happened to stumble upon a man who could possibly throw the Fatui out of your homeland entirely.

Warning(s): Wholesomeness sprinkled around, Il Capitano is a bit of a liar here, eventual smut, Imagined Natlan(?) (Obviously the nation isn't out yet so I'm using my imagination as to how things are + how the people function lol), good ol' angst at the end.

Note(s): I adore fics where the Fatui are kinda shady so I decided to add my two cents in. I didn't want to risk making this too long so I'll make a part 2 to this eventually! (Im also trying to get back into the swing of fanfic-writing so excuse any errors y'all!)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"You don't belong here."

Those were the first words you said to the imposing figure whom you had found hidden away in the depths of a charred forest in Natlan. A nation where the earth pulsed with the lava that flowed just underneath the surface and volcanos oozed lava just about everyone one could see. Symbols of Natlan's fiery beating heart that those from other nations were too fearful to touch much less come close to at least...aside from the Fatui.

They arrived in your homeland about four months ago, led by a mysterious leader who was said to have been a monster in battle. Who wielded his weapon as easily as his own limb and tore through the battlefield as fiercely as a rampaging Fire Bull. It was the Fatui's 4th strongest Harbinger, Il Capitano, and you wouldn't deny that hearing the best warriors of Natlan describe him like that...it sent a fearful shiver down your spine.

If there was anything this nation prided itself on, it was the chaotic change and the delicate art that could be found in war.

An outsider mastering that art better than the residents of your own nation? You weren't much of a fighter yourself, you could just about swing a sword but you weren't on the leagues of those who were renowned fighters or those who regularly participated in duals, but...with the arrival of the Fatui and hearing how they've ransacked and pillaged villages?

Tearing apart families and using people's weaknesses to the cold against them.

You wanted to help.

This is how you found yourself in the present now, peeking out just a little from behind a tree as you watched the stranger practice his swordsmanship now suddenly regretting the words that escaped your lips recklessly. Although, it seemed like the stranger hadn't paid you any mind.

You stepped out from your hiding spot a little more, your eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You don't belong here." You repeated.

It was then that the stranger ceased his practice, the act of him plunging his sword into the rocky soil making you jump a little. You expected him to say something back to you, maybe some words of trying to shoo you away or that you were interrupting his practice but...as you shifted a little underneath the awkward silence. You took the opportunity to look the stranger over.

The stranger was tall, big enough to give the large bulls of this land a scare. He had broad shoulders like a great oak and wore rather simple clothing despite training with a weapon, a black button-up with some black pants, his outfit similarly colored to his otherwise dark navy hair before...it was all topped off with that strange mask he wore on his head, one that didn't reveal his features and made it seem like his face was nothing but an empty black void.

You cleared your throat. "Who are you?" You finally asked.

You could've sworn you heard a shocked gasp from the man before his head slowly tilted to the side. "...You don't know who I am?"

You raised your brow. "Am I supposed to?" To which the stranger cleared his throat but he shook his head.

"No," He answered before he plucked his weapon from the ground and went back to battling one of the trees.

His swordplay was magnificent, his weapon was about as big as he was yet he wielded it as efficiently as a thief would a knife! You pitied the poor soul who had the unfortunate luck of coming across the stranger in battle. "You wield your weapon well." You complimented.

No response.

"Graceful, effective. You should be a part of Natlan's warriors rather than fighting against a tree, you could possibly thwart the invading Fatui."

Once again, he stopped, sparing you a glance. "The Fatui won't leave."

"Not with that attitude and you fighting in a dead forest."

The stranger let out a heavy sigh as he plunged his sword into the ground once more. "The Fatui are mightier than you think, they've bested Natlan's best warriors with ease."

"And you could help stop them!"

The stranger scoffed, shaking his head. You were certain that he may have thought of you as a too-hopeful fool but, what else was there in be in these times of strife? Where Fatui were spreading further and further out? You were just lucky enough that they hadn't happened upon your village yet! But...it was only a matter of time, and quite frankly? With your village being composed of nothing more than elderly folk with their grandchildren. You were searching for any way possible to be able to try and protect your village.

You sighed. "Look, we- we don't have time to lose ourselves to hopelessness. Everyone who is a skilled fighter-"

"Needs to help?" The stranger finished for you, crossing his arms. "If you believe helping or thwarting the Fatui is the right thing to do then you forget one of the teachings of the Pyro Archon."

Your jaw dropped a little. You weren't a devout priest but you understood her words well enough! "Okay Mister Know-It-All, what am I forgetting?"

"The Principles of Change." He said. "Chaos who begets fire and war. For she is the instructor of the two as to how to best enact her will."

You flushed as one of the teachings came to mind all of a sudden. But...although change was indeed chaotic. That didn't mean that it had to be at the loss of countless lives and the awakening threat of your people possibly being turned into nothing but slaves for the Fatui! You'd rather die than see that reality happen.

You dared to place a gentle hand on the man's forearm. "Chaos working to forward change doesn't have to bring needless death. Please." You begged. "You could help, save countless people even!" You felt any semblance of hope for keeping your village safe shatter when the stranger walked away from you, the rest of your words catching in your throat before you looked at your feet, gulping down a round of tears that threatened to surface.

You sighed. "...Alright then," You said, looking back up to see the man tearing his sword from the ground before he began to walk off. "I-If you change your mind, come find this forest again and head west! You'll find my village!"

You were certain your words fell on deaf ears.

.

.

.

It had been a few days since you had last visited the forest. On some nights, you were certain you could hear the faint sound of a sword colliding with a tree but you never went to investigate. Instead of focusing your efforts on trying to make sure that your village was as safe as possible when you'd go out for food and supplies, you'd always take a more confusing path back just in case someone was following you. When you talked at the market about your village, you simply said that you lived a solitary life in the mountains in hopes that, if someone did check, they'd be met with disappointment.

It seemed to be working so far.

Things were as peaceful as could be- "Hm?" You hummed aloud at the sound of someone knocking at your door.

As you walked through your house, you grabbed a dagger off of a nearby weapons rack, holding a hand behind you as you went to the door. "Who is it?!"

"Me," A familiar voice that you thought you'd never heard. You nearly dropped your weapon as you rushed to open the door.

At the sight of the stranger, you nearly beamed ear-to-ear. "Y-You're here! You came."

"Simply because I need a place to rest my feet for a while, your village was the closest." The stranger said as he had to bend down a considerable amount just to fit through your door. Thankfully, he left his weapon at the front door as he wandered through your home, the sight of such a large man trying to maneuver and avoid bumping into things could have almost been considered comedic had it not been for the-

"Blood?" You wondered aloud when you spotted it on the back of his cape.

"...Fatui enemies."

You smiled. "Ah, well, seeing as there's only a little. I'm certain you handled yourself quite well." When the stranger had finally taken a seat in your living room, on one of the larger pillows, he had quickly taken off his cape before he folded it.

"Hopefully you would have considered my offer? Of trying to push back the Fatui?"

"No," He said. "Besides, the forces of Natlan's warriors are weakening. No matter how strong you may think I am. I won't be able to change anything on my own."

"Well...then what if I help?"

You pouted when he chuckled. "Absolutely not, you couldn't even sneak up on me. What could you do against an army?"

"I never said I had to fight them front and center! I could learn to use a bow-" Suddenly, the stranger pulled you closer by your arm, staring you down before he looked you over. You couldn't pinpoint why but...whatever made you begin to blush by him looking you over, you didn't exactly dislike it.

"I think...you're better off here. Keeping your house warm and village safe, there's not many safe places. The last thing I'd want is for my one safe place to disappear."

You gently shook your arm from his grip as you looked away in embarrassment.

"Oh please, I'm not some housewife...besides, I don't even know your name."

"That's because my name isn't important. It's a shameful name that...I wouldn't dare curse you to hear." You raised your brow, not important? You wondered why. "But, I would like to know the name of the beautiful person who owns this place."

"Oh!" Your eyes widened, a soft smile gracing your features. "Y/N...but, it really isn't a shame that I can't know your name. Much less see whose behind the mask."

"I've done a lot of things but the last thing I'd do to you is defile your eyes by my face."

You crouched down beside him, chuckling a little. "You have a bit of an attitude but, I doubt whatever you look like could scare me."

He looked away "How flattering."

A comfortable silence fell between you two. You were still curious about the stranger who currently sat in your house, who had managed to find your village despite only meeting him once a few days ago. But...you supposed it was fairly easy to overlook things. After all, it was rather easy to become lonely in a house that you shared all on your lonesome.

.

.

.

"So...where are we going?"

"Foraging."

"Foraging for what?"

"Things,"

"Things like what?"

A smirk crept onto your lips when the stranger only groaned in response to your endless questions. Yet, you found no malice in it. The two of you had been growing closer as of late, at the start of every day. He'd leave for a few hours to train in the forest, commanding you not to follow him while assuring you that he would be back later. So far, he hasn't failed to live up to his words.

But...as of recently, the three days or so, he'd been coming home with gits. Sometimes it was flowers, other time money for you to buy things that you've been eyeing for a while or food! When he'd come back from his training, the two of you would talk about the day and what you'd both experienced. You'd have dinner prepared and he'd have a gift for you, as well as a story to "keep you entertained" as he'd like to put it.

It was rather domestic.

Each time the man brought you a gift, the foreign warm and full feeling in your chest would only grow.

"Do not be so nosy," He said, gently nudging you with his own body. "You'll enjoy foraging these flowers, I think they'd look nice in your home."

"Our." You corrected, causing him to slow down a little before he looked down at you.

"Our?"

You nodded your head. "Technically, right? You always return back there, did you even have a home before you met me?" You teased.

Immediately, the man looked away again with a grumble. "I did and do...but your home is closer. I...like it." From that comment alone, you could've sworn that the warm feeling in your chest...as well as your fondness for the man who you didn't even have a name to put to yet, the feeling grew just a little bit more.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Link to Part 2

[fatuismooches]

okay im having a crisis because i was reading the capitano husband thoughts (absolutely love that btw im melting istg) and ive seen other fics but like how do you kiss this man 😭 like i get if u kiss his mask but how does he kiss you😭 if he takes off the mask what do people imagine then

Ah yes, one of the greatest mysteries in Teyvat. What goes on behind that dark void of a face for the First Harbinger? (I think most people HC him to be some eldritch monster or really just a normal human face. However, personally, I prefer if we never know. I love the mystery of it all and the open interpretation.)

Even though Capitano's mask covers much of his face, there's still a decent gap in it, which is where all the darkness is. But people can still see his blue eyes from the mask sometimes. I mean, he also probably eats with the mask on, so he has to be able to kiss you with it on too! Sure, it will probably be a bit awkward at first, with your face bumping into the metal, but you'll get used to it over time. All you do is get really close to his face and somehow his lips meet yours. That's all. No one else really understands how you do it, but kissing him isn't a challenge to you anymore. Though you often kiss him elsewhere just because it's easier.

Even though Capitano really wanted to kiss you, he was also reluctant at first because he wasn't sure if you'd be into kissing someone you didn't even know the face of. Also, he's literally never kissed anyone before, so how would it happen? Luckily for him, you could care less what he looks like, as long as he loves you.

[robin-evry]

Hey, if it's possible maybe you can do Ghost! Reader from Hollow Knight for Genshin Impact?

Since I don't know who they are, I have to do some research, this research may not be accurate but I've tried my best. I will rewrite it when I start to have a clear understanding

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

The Knight is a discarded Vessel They are the child of the Pale King and the White Lady,born in the Abyss with Void inside their shell. Hornet is the Knight's sister through their shared father Like the rest of their Vessel siblings, the Knight is genderless

( English is not my first language )

Day 7 : ghost!reader from hollownights

a wandering spirit is awoken in an area of snow. The Silent Shade’s presence in Snezhnaya would not go unnoticed for long. Many fatui soldiers and civilians reported about a strange small hillichurl if you called it.

Many people or soldiers approach it and talk to it, instead of releasing any sound it just stares at the person without saying anything. Many reports by the victims during their stare down. They said that there's nothing behind the mask only nothingness and an endless hole.

Even tho their body is small many monsters in the area were slain by the hillichurl by using some power that might be related to the abyss. The power allows them to control and penetrate the soul of these monsters. As well the ability to cast spells and charms

Not long after, words got into the harbingers ears as well the archon. Soon a global search was amassed and the hillichurl is found relaxing by a lake.

Soon they were captured and were presented towards the harbingers

Cryo Archon : hello there little one

Ghost!reader : ....

Cryo archon : are you lost

Ghost!reader : ....

Cryo archon : are you perhaps unable to speak

Ghost!reader : nodded yes

After their interaction is finished, some harbingers participate to take them under their wing, including the doctor themselves. He proposed if they let him learn about the creature's biology they will manage to find a way to a new level of power that has never been reached before.

One of the harbingers that declined his objection is the knave, she sees the creature as a child which is lost. If they were accepted towards the house of hearth, she will teach them how to be a soldier or a spy

When they were discussing who would be the one under their wing. The wandering spirit walks away and slips away from their gaze while they are busy discussing.

But one Harbinger notices this and follows them behind, it was the number one Harbinger, the captain. The harbinger crouched down and looked at it for a while and started to conversation.

The captain : are far from home are you

Ghost!reader : nodded yes

The captain immediately realizes even tho this hillichurl is fragile looking it's by far from it. No ordinary hillichurl is able to take down many monsters without issue.

This creature is a warrior by heart. It's much smarter than what they let on. It's smart enough to cast highly complex spells. As if this person was a human it's very independent as well

Soon capitano became the official caretakers and soon they were official guardians. The doctor despises this man and he's unable to perform experiments due to this man. He could have learned something new to benefit humans.

I'm sorry if it's inaccurate, I don't know hollow knights and this writing is based on the information I was given by google, I will rewrite it after I learn about it more

[lady-quen]

On Mael and the Dream - lore exploration

I've been hanging around the Grove and listening to NPC dialogue which got me thinking about sylvari and the Dream (though, to be honest, when am I not thinking about that lately..)

As a Soundless not by choice ever since his revival, Mael misses the connection quite a bit - thankfully Aurene fills some of that void with the Champion-Scion bond. Essentially, going from Dreamer to suddenly and traumatically severed, Mael feels like a part of his own ability to feel emotion was ripped away, and struggles with friendship, seeing that "missing piece" everywhere and as though none of his relationships can truly feel "right" anymore. He describes the visions he sees in his sleep as "being submerged in dark water with chain and weight at his feet" - knowing there are voices calling out to him but being unable to hear them.

Coupled with the loss of Trahearne, he feels like he might genuinely be unable to feel love again, and becomes extremely emotionally secluded behind his mask of snarky humor. The overwhelming absence of the Dream tricks him into thinking that relationships with other races cannot ever be as "deep and true" as those between sylvari, leading to quite the mental crisis as he learns to adjust to the abrupt change with the help of the party, the Soundless community, and Aurene.

He seeks out an audience with the Pale Tree as soon as his duties afford him the time, but is ultimately told he cannot be helped, since the Dream is a part of the magic domain of Mind and Mael's own innate magic was replaced along with his life force. The Mother herself was unable to see anything beyond the point of his death, and initially believed him tragically deceased.

Mael then confesses he no longer feels worthy of Caladbolg, especially now when he is closer to a lich than sylvari - some form of cruel joke considering Mazdak the Accursed's role in the death of Riannoc, as well as the lich's eventual demise at Mael's own hands. Having ended two between Mazdak and Joko, the Lichslayer had now become the very monster he once hunted - the original harbinger of death to the sylvari. The Pale Tree however only responds that though she may no longer see him, she would always love him, and that death was as much a part of life as anything - that there was a reason why events had gone the way they had, and how she ultimately still trusts him as her child, no matter how changed. Though still struggling, he promises to hold onto the sword until a new Knight of the Thorn rises, a full circle from originally recovering the blade.

In a sense, fearing his own corruption through his twisted magic, he is glad his experiences could not affect the rest of the sylvari. As for Caladbolg itself - despite how much he feels giving it up to be the right thing to do, it's the only connection to Trahearne he still has, and so he decides he would only process the grief of parting with it once again if the Mother called for it. For now, it remained his to safekeep, just like his dearheart's memory.

During his own personal journey of self-reflection, the Soundless of the Weeping Isle play a notable role. At first, Maelmordha expresses how he finds it difficult to fathom why one might choose to separate oneself from the Dream willingly, which comes across as highly offensive to the Isle's villagers - a rare fumble from the usually open-minded Dawnborn. Still, a total separation is unheard of among sylvari, even those who had deliberately meditated years to quieten the connection - having it happen so suddenly and so wholly nearly broke the Commander's already troubled mind. Spending time learning about the Soundless' reasoning and ways of life with Eona as his mentor was an important step in improving the Commander's mental health.

It takes time, but he learns to open up again and accept the fact his emotions aren't broken, he just needs time to relearn them and accept himself as he is.

[grimulf-of-the-wilderness]

ooc: I still feel like DEATH but

!!! Capi Papi !!!

And look Cryo &&& look closer HE IS 1st Fatui Harbingers! Many have speculated this but there it issssssss~ Literally, the only charrie I am going to pull so HARD for and build a team around. I do wish he was a bit more ... muscular because what we have been looking at seemed so much bigger at times. But I'm glad he's not a lil' boi. His voice is kinda M e h. My ears wanted a more mature voice actor along the lines of Zhongli. I guess my brain says 'older man' I do love his design, like really LOVE it especially his GRIMULF claws, hehe. And I pray they never take his mask off even in storylines, it's better a mystery. I am so invested in seeing what his lore is like 1000% Ima eat that up and then take seconds.

So is he Rerir riotous avenger? Is he Vedrfolnir hello chains! is he bloodstained? Is he from Khae? Who’s IS HE???? I must know he’s def feeling abyssal void cryo. He’s got scales on his arm Draconian or we gonna get some kick Ahh sea creature from him? Kraken? If I ever took on another Genshin muse, it would be HE. I'm so curious about this bloke, I need all the deets!

[express-archives]

yeah... yeah. farzaneh fans come get your food fr 🗣❗️❗️❗️ tw & cw for strangulation and stabbing, as well as non-conventional depictions/descriptions of blood (dottore bleeds blue in this fic).

        "I hate you!"

        Farzaneh's mind felt so deeply severed from her body in that moment. It was like cotton had been stuffed into the protective layers filled with fluid between her brain and her skull, or perhaps more like there was a thick glass wall separating her from everything around her.

        ...But the rage that burns within their synthetic veins is hot, starkly so against the biting freeze actively digging into her knees and chilling their flesh through her pants. They press the entirety of their body weight onto the one trapped below them, effectively pinning him immovably in place. His mask was knocked somewhere off to the side with the force they initially exerted upon him, left to be forgotten for the time being.

        (Whether he allowed them to make that move or whether she actually caught him off guard was certainly debatable, his assailant thinks; Farzaneh is certainly no weaker than he, and a brief flicker of surprise was evidently shown in his expression when she lunged at him, but he had so clearly done absolutely nothing to prevent her from tackling him into the freshly-fallen snow.

        Farzaneh is no weaker than he, but it seemed that he genuinely had no intention of trying to stop her.

        It's like he wanted to see what would happen if he did not, if he failed to take action against her. The thought—the realization—that he was most likely making use of them as an impromptu test subject makes Farzaneh even angrier.)

        Skilled and deft hands scrambled to his neck, unrestrained madness swirling in a perfectly destructive and chaotic storm in their precise eyes.

        It made a smiliarly mad smile reflect upon his features through the discomfort of being strangled. Amused, piercing red eyes stare back into the void depths of theirs.

        "So quick to rage, aren't you?"

        Farzaneh's nails dig into his inorganic flesh, harder and harder and harder until vibrantly, unnaturally blue blood bubbles under their nails and drips down the sides of his neck. A laughing wheeze is drawn from the Harbinger's throat.

        "Shut the fuck up!" they snarl, thumbs pressing ever-harder into his throat. Finger shaped bruises threaten to bloom on his skin, despite him being inhuman, with the strength they were exerting against him. Their chest clearly heaves; whether it is with strain and effort or with fury, he could not possibly guess. The risk of bruising is hardly a concern of his—he's more interested in Farzaneh's spiral at the moment. "Do you ever stop talking?!"

        Something snaps under their hands, and the Harbinger's coughs become more frantic and violet. His fits are far beyond his control at this point, but he still fails to cease laughing. Farzaneh presses into that spot again, and they feel something else shatter within him.

        A mechanical component, probably, but they like to think it's bones that are breaking inside him.

        Again, he fails to restrain the cackles.

        How ironic his current situation is! It would be impossible for him not to laugh.

        Reflected in her expression is a version of himself he rarely sees these days—the Segment representing the time of Il Dottore's life when he was freshly expelled from the Akademiya's halls spends most of his time beyond Snezhnaya's borders.

        ...But in that moment, Dottore's older Segment could have sworn that he had returned to the Motherland.

        "You look like us, Farzaneh!"

        Her manufactured heart stutters in her chest at that, and her resolute expression wavers. For a brief moment, their grip weakens, and the man beneath them almost believes that they might actually back off.

        ...But then, the scholar's eyes harden again.

        "Oh?" they mutter, expression darkening as the metaphorical and literal gears turn in their head. "You think I look like you?"

        His grin is utterly wicked. It makes their stomach twist grossly.

        "Oh, you are our mirror image."

        "Suppose I should make you look more like my sister, then. It's only fair."

        Before he can even register what has happened, blood is gushing from a gash in his side, seeping into the snow beneath him.

        From Farzaneh's boot, she has drawn a small blade.

        It rips through his clothes and into his ribs. All the air—not that he particularly needed it—is knocked from his chest in a swift instant.

        "Does this look like the work of tigers to you?!" they yell, barely giving him a chance to regain his breath before stabbing him again. "Answer me, Zandik!"

        Zandik. The name resonates in his brain, and he manages to choke out another laugh. What a precious thing Farzaneh is.

        He is not, and will never be, his creator. He is Zandik, to an extent, but he is also not. The fact that Farzaneh is bent on making him out to be the one she is furious at makes an insurmountable amount of amusement swirl in his beaten-in chest.

        He never does answer their question.

        The hand that is raised to shank him again hesitates. Farzaneh tries with a huff to force it down, but some amount of clarity has returned to her face. It is evident that she no longer has the will to do so.

        Their hand drops to her side as fast as it had raised in the first place, but they don't move. Zandik decides that he'll allow it, patting their thigh amusedly. His action is almost fond in nature.

        Their face twists into a grimace, and they absentmindedly smack his hand down.

        "Look what you've done," he muses, hoarsely. "I thought you were above this."

        A scoff. "Oh, please. You would do it too if someone pushed you far enough."

        She flinches. They know they've said the wrong thing. His smirk only serves to confirm that suspicion, and before they can even open their mouth to correct what they've stated, he responds.

        "I might've asked what that says about you," he begins, "but it is clear to me that you already know."

        Grief swirls in her despondent, vacant gaze. All of the savage wrath that had made their eyes look so impossibly alive, lighting them up with reignited passion, had been sucked away in an instant when they came to their senses.

        "Be quiet," they murmur, pushing themselves off of him. Resignation is evident in the way their shoulders slump. Tired, defeated passivity emanates from their core, voice drained of its typical distant calculation. "I'm leaving now."

        Zandik has won this time.

        As such, he allows them to leave, basking in what remained of his amusement before he would inevitably have to return to the Fatui and be rendered bored once more.

[l-capitan]

@grimulf-of-the-wilderness | cont'd.

Capitano must hand it to this stranger, they’ve been rather audacious in their romanticisms and flirtations, and it left him utterly stupefied.

Not once has he ever been caught off guard the way he has been by this…admirer, and while it does somewhat make his hackles raise, he had to give them credit where credit was due. After all, indeed, audentes Fortuna iuvat.

Fortune favors the bold.

The Harbinger made no move to slay the stranger where they stood. No, instead, it just stared at them ever silently, the oppressive aura that it always carried upon its shoulders having quieted considerably and was even replaced by something else entirely:

Curiosity.

Their playful yet almost taunting words intrigued him, hues of cerulean glinting within the void of his mask as he regarded the newcomer carefully. The Captain’s lived for a little over five centuries now. He has seen many things when it came to humans and their customs, even those when it came to gestures indicating courting. He’s certainly never seen anyone lick another’s knuckles, however. It was strange—and yet, somehow, mildly amusing?

He's confused. Terribly so. He’s never been at the receiving end of any sort of attention that was not fear or reverence. Or both.

As the wanderer rose to their full height, Capitano was subtly taken aback by the fact that they are tall; much taller than him. He’s never encountered any human that passed him in stature, and just that alone further solidifies the assumption that they’re anything but—or at least, no longer are.

Only when they pushed back the hood and revealed everything did he truly understand. Understand, yet grow all the more bewildered at the fact that of all beings, it was a Hilichurlian Rogue that had courageously stepped forward and gave him his affections.

It’s not often that the Harbinger comes across Hilichurls, no less rogues, as he tends to keep his distance from them in order to leave them with what little peace they have left. So, to be face-to-face—or rather, mask-to-mask, with one was utterly novel. It’s not unwelcome, even as the Hilichurl reiterated his words from before.

Devastatingly handsome paired with a beautiful soul…as though he wasn’t baffled enough.

However, Capitano was snapped out of his reverie the moment a passerby screamed in terror at the sight of the rogue before him, his head turning almost mechanically towards the source of the exclamation before chaos erupted around them.

Ah.

His attention remained on the crowds of people that scattered and hollered to get away from the rogue that had revealed himself, however it returned towards the Hilichurl once he spoke again and dismissed himself before the guards could step in.

“… Wait.”

These are not Capitano’s people—they’re not a group that he could easily calm with a simple gesture. What he can do, however, is to bring back that oppressive nature that weighed heavily around him as he turned his attention towards the guards and the few stragglers that remained. He has no jurisdiction here in Natlan, of that he is aware, yet he is still a Fatuus.

He is still a Harbinger, and one that demanded respect by his mere presence.

“Leave this being to me and return to your people. Assure them that all is well, as there is nothing to be afraid of,” it said, its voice unwavering and stalwart. Should they listen or should they not mattered little to him as his attention fell on the rogue once more if he did actually listen and stay, motioning with his head for him to follow.

There was no need to continue causing unnecessary stress on the inhabitants of Natlan, so the two of them may as well find a more secluded place so they could have a talk.

[subliminallyroki]

I thought you guys might enjoy reading me infodump about my watcher and avian head canons, so uh here ya go! (This also relates to some of the hcs I have for Grian)

All avians are short (4-5 feet) and have bird-like double jointed legs. Their bones are hollow, but flexible, and their skeleton is more fit for to be streamlined. Specifically their skull has a less defined nose that allows for them to not suffocate when flying at high speeds. The muscular structure is and the muscles themselves are different from a regular human. For example, four pecs (two for arms, two for wings). Internal organs are switched around to make room for the expanded lungs and air sac. Avians have tail feathers and ear feathers and a second pair of eyelids. Their eyes also have a much higher shutter speed and depth perception. And the wings are large (to allow for lift and to avoid hitting shoulders) and attach on the lower middle back. Avians tend to be weaker than your average human because the muscle mass mostly goes towards the wings. And also because of their hollow bones. Their hands have harder keratin in the nails, but nothing too much. And a lot of other features, but these are the basic physical things. Avians are all different types so features can vary depending on the species of bird they are derived from. Avians also tend to have bird like instincts.

Watchers, on the other hand, absolutely defy every law of physics and biology. Their physical form has six sets of wings (the primary back ones, set further up the back, and the secondary lower back ones, then the trinary ear ones). The wings are iridescent and have been described as mesmerizing, likened to gazing into the void. It is hard to tell much about their genetic make up because they aren't really living things, they are gods. They do not necessarily have blood and flesh in their true forms. In their most recognizable form that can be imbibed by mortals the majority of the time is a tall, skeletal humanoid with vastly large wings (larger than an avian's). The wings sometimes appear to look like a cloak. They do not have tail feathers or taloned feet. Nor do they have the make up of an avian body. However, they have clawed hands that appear to be stained black. Strange. This form is clothed a purple cloak and robes and most often adorned with gold jewelry. And the iconic white mask. Often times, the area under the mask (which only covers the eyes) is stained purple. They bleed void and are basically made of it, they can't go anywhere without the void, but can still See even with no void. There are numerous eyes over their body and wings (most numbering on the primares, face, neck arms, legs, and torso) but are often closed and unseen. Watchers also sometimes have various tatoos of different symbols specific to them. They do not need to eat, sleep, breathe, or anything else that a living thing needs to do. But they do need the void. This form can be described as imposing and a harbinger of dread. Ethereal and godly and ominous. Watchers are known shapeshifters, condensing or expanding their forms to Watch. Watchers have admin abilities as well and can easily alter code.

How does this apply to Grian?

Grain was born an avain. When he got kidnapped by the Watchers, they basically ripped out his essence out of his body, made him into a watcher. But instead of forming a new vessel for his watcher form, he fought back into his original body. That body changed. He has ear wings, and his back pair sometimes switch to a magenta/white with eye patterns. He does have multiple eyes, but not as numerous and are closed. And his fingers are clawed. It was a struggle for him to breathe properly in that body because of being in the void and his avian-ness.

But he would not give it up. Because of using his original body, he was susceptible to much more human issues. Like pain, starvation, exhaustion, etc. And it hindered his watcher abilities. Like his shapeshifts into solid forms arent as smooth. But the Watchers thought it to be funny and sort of like a punishment. Once Grian had been with the Watchers for awhile, they planned to get rid of his body. Grian escaped from them and connected to Mumbo in his panic and got to hermitcraft. His watcher features might not be very distinguishable from an avain, but those who know what they are looking for can tell immediately.

Okay that's all! If you read all of this, you get a cookie of your favorite flavor. Here ya go! 🍪

[transman-badass]

Mine

A Through the Yellow Window sample

Somewhat sequel to this

The Duke must’ve knocked him unconscious. The Harbinger grunted, pushing himself up off the tile. Wind swayed the curtains nearby him, the fabric, thin as skin, hiding nothing of the world beyond. Carcosa remained unchanged from this view, a world imprisoned, replayed over and over like film. Against his cheeks, a scent rubbed against him, something spiced, warm, sweet. Undeniable luxury fitting for this palace of human hands, and eldritch presence.

He glanced around the room, and found himself alone. Glinting chains, delicate and heavy alike, dangled from overhead. The rug beneath him, new, pristine, a geometric odyssey of cult worship woven within it. The Harbinger forced his eyes, and his mind, away. Somewhere a doorway, curved, led to warm darkness. On the other side, closer to himself, a carved door of gilded wood.

Forcing himself to his feet, the Harbinger adjusted his jacket, scooped his hat up from off the floor. Time to get out of here before they find out why he came back. Placing it over his dark red hair, brushing a strand of it behind his ear, he set his sights on the door, and stepped forward.

“Did I say you could leave?”

The voice came from the open doorway. Something within the Harbinger shivered, freezing in the presence of something more than mortal.

“Turn around, Harbinger. Turn around and look at me.”

It was no command of sadistic magic that turned him around, but a deep dread of an order given by a smooth, perfectly human mouth. The Harbinger looked upon the Prince, and his eyes went wide.

He leaned against the doorway, shoulders back, eyes watching behind the mask. Draped in yellow fabric, thick and thin alike, barefoot, dripping jewels and gold. Something reminded the Harbinger of an ancient statue, some centuries old painting of a time long forgotten. A flush crossed the Harbingers face as his eyes landed upon the golden chain connecting the piercings upon the Prince’s chest. Behind the mask, the spawn chuckled. 

The Prince stepped away from the wall, his garments flowing, catching the light from the window.

“Kneel.”

Mouth dry, eyes wide, cheeks warm, the Harbinger obeyed, staring up at the other as he stopped before him. The Prince’s eyes glowed, not merely with his own pleasure, but with a power beyond human understanding. 

And yet, the hand that touched his cheek, running over the Harbinger’s hairless chin, felt smooth and warm.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Lazarus Core,” the Prince said. The Harbinger did not dare speak. “The Harbinger, he calls you.” The Prince laughed. “What a fool, that man is.”

His fingers cupped Harbinger’s chin, a thumb ghosted over his bottom lip.

“As if anyone could ever claim you but me.”

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[zorkaya-moved]

❄️if you like c:

@resolutepath

Ok, so when I texted you, you gave me the choice of three characters: Diluc, Welt, and Elio or Aether.

When it comes to DILUC, we can go into several directions within the Genpact universe:

"Positive" first meeting: Dr. Sokolova is known across Teyvat as the genius from Snezhnaya who has established several essential medical practices like blood transfusion and someone who's been known to improve the medical practices across Teyvat. What if during one of the big meetings in Mondstadt (similar to the comic), she is invited to give a speech and they both meet? She is a Snezhnayan, and Teyvat generally is very vary of Snezhnayans due to Harbingers and political hardships. What if they sit together to discuss politics? What if they become rather nicely acquainted where she may offer her expertise to teach in Mondstadt and assist in improving the life within the city? They may be discussing different connections and then start exchanging letters while sharing information about the improvements that may be helpful. Not only that, but didn't Diluc also travel across the world? I think they'd be fantastic speakers when it comes to sharing their political views and being the 'charismatic spokespeople' where they can try to see what each of their true selves are beneath the pleasant smiles and charming smiles. Who knows, maybe she'll come into Angel's Share to get a drink or ten.

"Negative" first meeting: Diluc can meet the leader of A.S.H. first instead, the overindulgent serpent that rests within the cave of gold and information. He knows the information doesn't come cheap so why not enter the dance floor of the hidden and private gathering through his own connections? They'll tell him about the masquerade of depravity that happens. So if he enters this establishment to understand, to learn, and to find the information he requires? It'll be intriguing. He'll see the debauched people with masks, perhaps recognize many of them in horror of how many hide their nature behind closed doors. But then he's found by the creator, the owner, and the leader of the black market - the woman with a black mask with eyes shining like molten gold. They can step aside into a VIP room where they discuss business and why he is here. Will they establish a connection? A bond of information and business? Or will he issue a warning to the land of indulgence? Who knows! The possibilities are endless. But Diluc may use this for his own knowledge. The Black Market sells everything: from information to lives, he just might use it to his advantage as they meet in that VIP room until they learn bits of each other and maybe someday they'll take off masks to unite against the same enemy.

Diluc went for so long, my bad, I had some visions lol. So let's move to WELT YANG. This will also be long but I've got some ideas that I'll try to summarize instead:

Welt and Zarina in HSR are both from the same world. The only difference is that Zarina hails from the PE (Previous Era, the era of Kevin) and Welt Yang is solely from CE (Current Era) within HSR. Based on what happens in the game and in HSR, I propose these possibilities:

When Welt was traveling with Void Archives, he met Zarina on one of the travels while Void Archives was still there and who exposed Zarina to him as the Herrscher of the Previous Era and someone who has been there during its (Divine Key's) creation and who knew his creator. They both could've traveled together for a short bit of time before they separated, Void Archives and Welt going to where they needed and Zarina going into IPC to fulfill the mission. What if after that meeting, Welt meets her again but on the Astral Express where she steps forward and exposes herself as the Emanator/Apostle of Origin?

It'd be time for Welt to learn more in detail about the past era and the era where Kevin Kaslana have become the way he is at the last battle. I think them both talking about the difference between the Previous Era and the Current Era would be fascinating. Not only that, but Welt could ask her more about Void Archives and what their creation was supposed to mean. So, the main idea for this one is: Welt met Zarina and learned bits and pieces from Void Archives (who refused to give more information aside from specifics mentioned) and for these two to start building their interaction based on the exchange of knowledge. Not only that, but Welt will also learn more about the internal works of the World Serpent through Zarina as well.

As for ELIO, within the HSR universe, I have several things to give out:

As someone who connects my Elysia at elysiaslm and Zarina here, imagine if Elio meets Zarina after meeting Elysia aka Aeon of Origin/Ego who must be protected to prevent the end of the universes. Will Elio speak of his encounter? Will they both unite their powers and discuss how to reach the best end? In her canon, if that's ok with you, Zarina learns that she finally has an [end] to her long and extended life. Will he share the script just for that 1 thing? What will he ask in exchange for it? They can play around with that and see what will be the most beneficial. We can dive into how they see their duty and they long lives.

Zarina has a [Discipline] placed upon her that prevents others from manipulating or entering her mind, which may be an interesting thing to use when we are discussing her interactions with Elio. If Elio [reads] her memories, he'd see the horrors and have a similar experience to what Black Swan had happen when she tried to read Acheron's memory. The issue lies in the fact that the Blessing of Origin and [Discipline] hold back a part of her mind that is tainted by the Honkai and that - if poked - tries to destroy everything what touches it, freezing it. What if Elio sees the 50k year journey and it overwhelms him? What if he is restricted by Discipline to dive too deep into that journey? They can exchange the story of their lives, bits and pieces, to see if they can travel the same path towards salvation.

[coyotescribbles]

Thunder vibrated through the Nemesis' hull, but Corona hardly seemed to notice.

She was just so tired.

The mask she wore was starting to weigh heavy on her, but she didn't dare take it off. Not even for a second. Not even in the quiet dark of the Pole Star's hold.

How much longer, she thought bitterly, before "Corona" is lost and only Eclipse remains?

She'd been scanning this world for months, methodically and painstakingly searching for the Vindicator's crash site. So far, she'd found the remains of the Harbinger, but there was no sign of the ship she needed to find.

But it had to be here. It had to. This was where its last known coordinates had placed it. This was where its transwarp trail ended. No other world in this planetary system had shown signs of occupation, only this world had, so this was where it had to be… right?

What was she going to do if she was wrong?

(She didn't want to think about that.)

Dragging her hand down her face, she stood up from the Pole Star's pilot's seat and disembarked the small ship, crossing the hangar deck to the massive doors that led outside. R1D3R and D34N, the guards for that shift, nodded to her; she nodded back in acknowledgement as the barrier slid away into its frame and a howling wind filled the space.

She let it rush over her, then strode purposefully out into the stormy darkness.

Just outside the doors, Shockwave's Predacon lounged beneath the overhang; at first, he seemed to be asleep, but as she passed by, he opened his brilliant yellow optics and raised his head with a curious sound. Idly, barely even thinking about what she was doing, Corona reached out to pat his shoulder. "Just passing through, big guy."

(The beast dwarfed her, and could have easily bitten her in two with no effort whatsoever… so she thought it best to be as nonthreatening and unobtrusive as possible.)

She walked until she reached the end of the landing platform - and once there, sat down with a heavy sigh. Letting her legs dangle over the edge, she leaned back on her palms and lifted her optics to the sky, watching the boiling black clouds that swirled around the ship. Lightning flashed and flickered, and every once in a while a great BOOM of thunder would rattle the hull beneath her.

I can't keep this act up forever, she thought wearily. The longer I stay here, the more likely it is that I'm going to slip up and get caught, and then…

And then it would all be over.

She thought about ducking out and setting up shop in the Harbinger, using its scanners instead - but dismissed that plan almost immediately. She didn't have the energon to sustain an independent operation, couldn't secure any on her own. Plus, in its stationary state and half-decayed condition, the Harbinger was far less useful than the Nemesis.

Nor could she just take the Pole Star out and search from there. Without a supply of energon or the Nemesis' cloaking device, she would be easy pickings.

And there was no way she could rely on the Autobots for help.

With a groan, she let herself collapse back against the hull, draping her forearm across her optics.

What am I gonna do?

For what felt like a long time, she just lay there, listening to the wind and the thunder and feeling lost for options.

A rush of hot air startled her out of her melancholy, and when she lifted her arm to see who could possibly have snuck up on her so soundlessly, she was surprised to see the Predacon blinking curiously down at her.

"…Oh, hello there." Sitting back up again, Corona half-turned to face the beast and watched as he settled back onto his side, propped up on one elbow as he watched her. What he might have been thinking, she couldn't have guessed; maybe he was wondering what a flightless little ground-pounder was doing, dangling themselves over the void like so.

She just smiled crookedly, letting out a single quiet laugh. "You probably wouldn't understand even if I could tell you," she sighed, almost wistfully; "but that's okay. Nobody would, so you'd be in good company."

He let out a snort that almost sounded sarcastic, and rumbled wordlessly as he stretched out to rest his head beside her. When she reached over to run her hand across those gleaming armor plates, he purred.

Her smile softened, despite herself.

"We're both pretty uniquely lonely beasts, aren't we?" She murmured. "I guess it's nice to have a little company in that, at least…"

[raspergine]

rasp lore dump idk

In the empty voids of the world, a certain someone appeared and created four creatures: A cat with 50 eyes, A bird with 3 Mouths, A snake who held a lighting sphere and A Beetle who held a star. Each of them had their own purpose. The cat needed to balance the other’s creations, The Bird had to build giant floating spheres and the other two had to light the planets. The cat also had to create some creatures to help the others create stuff, and that’s how the harbingers were born. A plush like dog, a never finished sketch, an angel dog made with a sock, an electric powered armor and a mask with an evil grin. The dog powered the creativity and stories, while the sketch powered the structure of the world. The armor powered the personality and looks, and the other two were like the ying yang.

Eventually, they created three dimensions: ALMA, LIMBO and HOME

[autumn-foxfire]

I still think a lot about how history was changed after Nahida erased Rukka from existence. While what was erased was technically her consciousness, it was still the last remnant of herself that existed, and by removing that for good, she might as well not have existed at all, which is what prompted Irminsul to remove and replace ALL data related to her. However, she was unable to erase herself, which is why she relied on her successor to do the job for her.

Something about this bugs me, though.

Scaramouche erasing his existence in the world’s history had the same effect as what happened with Rukka, even though he wasn’t able to actually erase himself. I think the fact that he’s still around might have caused the history-tampering to not be 100% perfect. After the alteration, Nahida mentions that there was nobody inside the giant robot when they fought it (because instead of Scara breaking out and hanging by the wires, there was nothing but an empty void behind the mask), but there’s no mention of the robot having a different appearance from the one we’re familiar with, so it still had the features that resembled Scaramouche. And, instead of having someone else be the 6th Harbinger with history saying that they died in action to explain the absence, it has it be that the seat has been left empty for decades for unknown reasons. And if we wanna get technical, Ei would still have to remember creating the prototype puppet in some way in order to justify the fact that he still exists (she probably thinks he’s still sleeping in the Shakkei Pavillion, but that’s just my headcanon).

If Scaramouche had been successful and ended his own existence, the history rewrite would have been flawless. While certain events would still happen, there wouldn’t have been any lingering traces of him ANYWHERE.

What makes Rukka's erasure from history work as well was that there was already another Dendro Archon who could take her role in the history so it wouldn't have to be changed too much, it just changed the person who took credit for her feats and altered them slightly.

Scaramouche is different, no one would take his place. We saw that history tried to remedy that by placing the blame of some of his actions on other people (like his actions for killing the families in the Raiden Gokaden) however would that change if he was completely erased?

Honestly the aspect of erasing history sounds really messy to do, I wouldn't blame Genshin if they didn't mess with it anymore.