#kalpas x reader

[l1nghuarchive]

astrie omg!! thinking about honkai men going rigid when you attempt to flirt with them.. they fight for humanity and all but how do they react when someone compares their eyes to the most exquisite worldly sightings of the earth?? some would swoon, frustrated,, even get extremely flushed!!!

YES!! OMGOMG SO TRUE ANON

imagine kevin the person who is known to be cold (quite literally) doesn’t blush as much but the way he is breathing just tells you how he is feeling with you flirting/teasing him!

Imagine Kosma being a whole blushing mess and trying to keep quiet so he doesn't stutter and accidentally says something embarrassing towards you!!

Imagine Kalpas blushing behind his mask and acts all aggressive with you but really just doesn't want you to know how you make him feel weak.

Imagine Su trying to remain calm despite his heart beating, he doesn't know if you aware of how his face might explode if you continued to flirt with him.

[mtchacffinz]

tempestuous temper, kalpas pt. 1

prompt! "Sorry I didn't mean to moan like that my bad" but it worked in your favor 🤭

content! kalpas x fem!reader, manhandling, size kink, Kalpas dense dumbass, REALLY thirsty reader, extremely explicit

note! oh you guys aren't ready for me when I say I'm one of the biggest Kalpas dick rider over here i swear to god. this is pretty self indulgent so it has AFAB pronouns </3 by the way he hasn't shoved his dick in you here yet LMALOO.... yet.....

Kalpas was rude and unapproachable. His malice seeps off his entire body whenever you even show a slight interest in him with those pretty eyes of yours. The Flame-Chaser was dense and quick tempered, easily pissed off, and always looking for trouble.

You, however..

You were usually a sweet girl, a very very sweet girl. The kind of lady who gives flowers every so often to people she cherishes— you know, the kind who praises and pampers her friends every chance she gets. You were reserved, cheerful, polite, keep to yourself, and most of all, you really work hard. As a soldier, you believed that every life must be treated preciously, as if you only have one duty: to help create a sanctuary for humanity free of— or less of Honkai.

These attributes of yours served you tremendously. The Halo Effect never fails to accentuate your genuine kindness and tenderness you give out to others. But alas, such as Kalpas, Mobius, and many nameless others, it's often looked down upon when it's given correspondence to your occupation.

But the itch.. that undeniable itch you get just by letting your mind wander even for a little bit.. It's dangerous. Especially for mind readers in the MOTHS, you're sure to believe the Su himself started to mind his own business when he even catches a glimpse of you drooling. Your height has a big gap in-between the lines of those measuring meters with everybody else— His body could easily tower over you long before he even got his transformative surgery done (even if you had not seen it for yourself, Elysia has told you many times!). You shift your body from where you stand. Those quick glances you give Kalpas every time your paths pass— every stolen gaze would leave him wondering: what the fuck is your problem? Are you looking for a fight?

So one time, Kalpas decides to act upon it. His booming footsteps echoed all throughout the lobby signifying his entrance. His mask didn't manage to make you feel better as his whole tall, and jacked figure loom over yours— back against the wall both figuratively and literally.

His temper was like a ripple in a wave, one swift motion and everything follows through his rage. But you.. you weren't scared at all. In fact, you were terrified. You were panicking! What now? What has he learned? Did he manage to read your mind? Does he know you want him to wrap those big, cold, veiny hands of his on your neck? From the way you're averting your eyes mashed with the way you stumble on your words, Kalpas knew something was wrong. Unaware of your.. well, unorthodox thoughts— he starts to feel excitement himself. After all, a person showing absolutely no signs of a mean bone in their body, looking so small under his eyes, jittering with crossed arms, Kalpas thinks he definitely hit something in your nerves.

Kalpas wants to see you seethe with rage. He needs to get a rise out of you. You're fucking boring! He can't stand being in the same room with someone all smiles and flowers! Sure, he's seen you bathed in blood and dust— but surely you could be more grand than that? With each tick the clock makes, he grows impatient.

"You gonna say something or what?" His voice sultry and low. More often than not, he wonders what even led you here to this treacherous path. Especially where your ideals lie on hopeful visions of image-less salvation— where even the world itself spoke openly of a war neverending. A war where he would become the smoke, the dust, and the blood soaked dirt of the very plane you stand; someone as soft and cute as you.

You, however, couldn't bring yourself to even say a thing. Not one word out of your mouth. You're afraid that if you even say one thing, something else would come out. Kalpas is staring down at you hard. From the way he's eyeing you, you would've thought he's already eating bits and pieces of your soul. Then again, you would've loved to do the same— just not in a way he thinks. Really, looking up at him top to bottom, you're dying to taste him in your mouth this instant. That bitter, wet after taste on your tongue kept plaguing your phantasmic senses; so much so that you unconsciously lick your lips.

Gross.. you're a pervert. And as this whole ordeal prolongs, you're starting to come to terms with it, internally chuckling at the irony of it all. If only you were bold enough like Elysia, even charming enough like Eden— or perhaps as mesmerizing as a Serpent like Mobius, then maybe, just maybe you would bat your eyelashes at him flirtatiously and shoot your shot?

But you're not crazy. Maybe down horrendously bad, but not insane.

But when he started putting those hands of his on your body, that's when you started to get increasingly nervous. Kalpas, without restraint, grabs your collar and pulls your frame closer to his. His forearm rests behind you leaving you nowhere to look but him. Your throat lets out a suppressed yelp. Suddenly, the air was hotter and the colors were a little more indistinguishable. Heat started creeping up on your face, spine tingling with every breath he heaved behind his mask. Oh.. that tickles.. and suddenly, the floor was quite interesting. But that didn't work. You can't see the floor now that his chest is obscuring your vision.

Kalpas could very much sense that something is wrong. First of all, you're not giving the reaction he wants from you. Where's the narrowed eye glare? Or even a seat from your hands now that his fist is curled on your collar? Come to think of it, you're being awfully submissive to his taunts. Even if he came here with a second agenda, isn't hostility a normal reaction? For God's sake. You're insufferable. Your cheeks puffed out in a pout, averting his figure like a goddamn plague— he finds surprise in your hands trailing their way towards his arm, holding onto it gently.

"Kalpas. I don't like telling people what to do."

"So your mouths finally serving you? Good."

You gulp a little, looking up at him while he loosens his hold on your collar. Part of you yearned him to caress your cheek, but he was no sweet man. He's a funny guy. You like his humour. But you can't help but think— what is he here for? Before letting you even have a heave of peace, Kalpas suddenly turns you over, and toss you on his shoulders. His big, warm hands grabbed your waist, and you let out a small noise.

Noise. It was a noise. You swear it was a noise, not a moan or anything.

Kalpas suddenly tenses up, stopping in his tracks with you still in his arms. His grip on you almost loosens, as you limp weakly into his arms. Oh wow. Your face is basically a CPU heating up. You were shaking and quivering from the humiliation that you wished you could just be thrown across the room head first now.

"Don't—... Don't say anything." You could tell he was a little surprised, but he carries on like nothing happened. You can't even focus on your surroundings right now because all you could think was fifteen thousand thoughts about how weird you are and he's never ever going to approach nor talk to you again. In my opinion, that's a little far fetched. He's a weird guy as well! It's not just you who should be at fault ~

Kalpas grumbles under his breath. You didn't quite catch it, but you couldn't care less. Not when his scent was mere centimeters away from your nose.. this is something you will not be forgetting that's for sure.

Oh, you kinda want to bite him. Before you entertain the thought, Kalpas once again grabs you by the waist and tosses you across the couch of the lounge. For a moment, you were stricken with dizziness— your body bouncing a little upon the cushions.

Confused, maybe a little shocked (and definitely turned on) you space out a moment, only being brought back to reality when Kalpas slams the door closed.

He was gone.

What just happened?

"Oh, hi~ you're here!" You quickly turn towards the source of that sweet, cooing voice. Elysia stood just a few meters away from you, a sly smile on his face. "Enjoyed the ride I organized for you?"

"Elysia!"

"Hee-hee, a ride.."

this was a silly thirst i did lmao, it was sitting in my drafts for a while, so here ~

[kalpasio]

Two Times You Abused Kalpas' Bodyheat

An actual Kalpas x Reader one shot I think

Working as a comms officer in Fire Moth was hardly your dream job. It was originally temp work. Your previous office had been blown up during a Fire Moth mission, so as compensation (and to keep your boss from blabbing) they had offered you all positions. When you took the job, it had only been because you needed a job for money, and this was all you could get. Now, it was one of the only jobs anyone could get, and it paid nicer than anything else on the market, so you put up with the weirdos you had to deal with on the daily in exchange for a nice paycheck.

One of these weirdos was your boyfriend, Kalpas. How you started dating was a mystery to nearly everyone, yourself included. You had been assigned as his comms for a mission, and from the safety of your desk, you had maybe gotten a little heated in telling him off. Other agents had stared at you in fear, but you were convinced it was fine. There was no way some random MANTIS would know who you were, or even care by the time he came back to base; and the fact that your yelling had saved the mission only made your more confident.

Oh you were so very mistaken.

Not only did Kalpas find out who you were, he marched straight into the comms office and right to your desk. The normally very loud room fell silent as everyone watched with morbid curiosity. You were dragged from the room, still shouting—you refused to go peacefully—much to the horror of all your new coworkers. None of them expected you to return, but the next day, there you were, sitting in your chair like nothing had happened with an especially warm cup of coffee. It became standard for the fiery MANTIS to visit you when he was bored, and everyone quickly learned not to stare to hard, lest they be on the receiving end of his glare.

All in all, working at Fire Moth wasn't that bad. Except for when the base was attacked and something broke. Which happened...once a week?

“You've been in the shower for an hour,” Kalpas called from your room. He had invited himself into your room—something that happened quite frequently—a while ago, and you had told him you'd be out in a minute.

“Hour and a half!” you called back.

“Get the fuck out!” was the response you chose to ignore. Or at least, you tried to ignore. After a minute, Kalpas grew impatient and walked into the bathroom to yell at you better. Unfortunately, telling you to “stop yelling and get out,” only made you throw water in his face and yell louder while holding the shower curtain closed.

“This is the most heat I've had all day!” you complained. The latest attack had knocked out heat to the base, and the backup generators couldn't produce enough energy to keep everyone warm. “Those stupid space heaters don't do any more than blow cold air on my feet.” Suddenly you froze and popped your head back around the curtain. “You're warm.”

“What?” Kalpas stood leaning against the wall beside your shower with his arms crossed so he could brood more efficiently. Without answering his question, you turned off the water and grabbed your towel from the hook nearby. As soon as you were dried off and the towel was secured around you, you stepped out of the shower and grabbed on to your boyfriend.

“What are you doing?” he growled.

Refusing to look up, you said, “It's cold and you're warm.” You said this like it was a fact—and it was—but Kalpas wasn't outwardly pleased by your words. Inwardly, however, he was undeniably happy to have you clinging to him. Of course, you couldn't tell with him growling at you, but you also didn't seem to care, because you didn't let go. In fact, you stepped onto his feet to keep your toes warm. It seemed as though you had no plans of moving any time soon, which was fine by Kalpas.

One of his arms wrapped around your back to hold you closer to him, but before you could appreciate the warmth, he was stepping forward. Then he was stepping out of the warm steam in your bathroom, and bringing you into the chilly air of your room What had once been your personal heater was now a train leading you to a very cold death, and it seemed as though he had no intentions of letting you off. As much as you struggled, Kalpas held on, carrying you all the way to your bed.

For a second, you thought your attempts to get out of his hold had paid off; you were released, only to be pushed backwards onto the bed, and immediately followed by a very heavy blanket. After a lot of grumbling and shifting from both parties, you eventually found a comfortable position laying down half on top of Kalpas, with several blankets—that you made him go get—covering you. For about five hours, you were the happiest person on the base.

Then the heat came back on. And Kalpas refused to budge. And you were boiling for the rest of the night.

One of the biggest issues with having one coffee machine for about thirty people was that said coffee machine was almost always broken. Sometimes you could convince Emile to buy you a drink when he grabbed his own and Kalpas would be kind enough to deliver it with minimal complaining. Sometimes you would actually go to your desk at the time your meant to instead of being called in for an emergency, and you could make the coffee in your little apartment.

Today, however, you were called in early and since Kalpas had just come back from a mission and it was the middle of the night, you couldn't ask him to bring you anything. The poor agent you were working with got some very nasty comments thrown his way, and you were sure his report on your work would be less than kind, but you got the job done. Once he was on his way back to base, you took your headset off, and looked around the office.

It seemed like you were one of the only agents called in, which wasn't very surprising given the early hour. Only a handful of desks were occupied, and half the screens were turned off. The place looked a little eerie when it was so empty, but it was nice to have a little quiet for a minute. Like most of the comms officers, you were scheduled to come in to work in another hour, so you figured you may was well stay up and get some paperwork squared away before your normal duties started. In the meantime, there was no harm in trying the old coffee pot, right?

Everything seemed to go smoothly; you put in the grounds and the water, and the sweet sweet caffeine came out. The smile on your face was evident as you poured yourself a cup, and fixed it to your tastes. The scowl that immediately followed your first sip was evident as well. The coffee was cold. Not cold like iced coffee, but that horrible not-quite-iced, not-quite-hot temperature that made you gag. Before you could fix the issue by going to the microwave down the hall, the screen on your desk flashed, and you were called back over to lead another job. Whoever got assigned to you was about to have a very successful, very miserable mission.

Luckily, Elysia seemed to think your irritation was amusing and let it slide, but that still didn't fix your lack of coffee. Having another call come in right after only made you more frustrated, and poor Su didn't deserve to have you snapping at him. You finally got a break long after everyone else had come into work, and word had spread to leave you alone for the day. Word spread so far as to reach outside the office, and find your boyfriend.

Reaching for a data pad only to find someone sitting on it had you fuming, and looking up to find Kalpas glaring down at you didn't help your anger. Just as you opened your mouth to start shouting, your horrible, terrible, cruel, infuriating boyfriend reached over and grabbed the mug of extremely cold coffee you brewed this morning. Then, your wonderful, perfect, amazing, brilliant boyfriend placed the mug in your hand with the coffee now steaming and ready to be enjoyed.

Instantly, your scowl became a beaming smile sent his way, and Kalpas was chuckling as he stood from your desk. All he said was a gruff 'you're welcome,' and he was on his way. For about two hours, you thought you had the best partner in the world. Then you opened a mission briefing, only to find that it was his mission you were going to be working on, and really he just hadn't wanted to deal with you screaming at him because you were tired.

Oh well. At least you got your coffee.

Uhhhh here. Have something I wrote because I have my first quiz today and am stressed ahahahah throws glitter and runs away These are both scenarios I kinda mentioned in other stories, so it's nothing new, but it's here.

Also as someone who drinks a lot of coffee and tea, let me tell you, lukewarm coffee/tea is the worst possible thing ever. I would rather step on legos than drink a cup of tea that has gone cold. Also have I ever told you how much I love Su? Um. A lot. I should write a story for him (no i should not i need to finish these requests)

[itonashi]

I MISS YOU

pairing: child!alhaitham x mom!reader, su x fem!reader

warning: there will be su x reader moment, angst, fluff. there will be a timeskip for alhaitham. reader will not grow old but mentally yes. lowercase intended. mentioned of moth/mantis/other char in the pe honkai impact.

note: i love su hehe. i think about this headcannon to many times bro. im gonna cry.

'is this how im gonna die? without seeing su? it's getting dark... it hurt. ahhh.. it's so noisy. if i do die — god, please make me meet him again and make me loved him again in another life.'

the MOTH were evacuating people from the honkai attack. you were there assigned to help the injured, while trying to find people that were injured. you were struck by honkai itself.

you weren't a fighter.

what could you actually do? you weren't even a MANTIS. you were struck on the head, pierced by it. your blood were everywhere.. it was messy. you thought that maybe if you were a MANTIS; you could've survived it.

maybe if you were a bit like kalpas.

"stop teasing me, su."

"oh? i never told you to stop teasing me when we were in middle school." su slightly smirk. your face was cute. the roles were switched.

you love him too much. you loved su. you were lucky enough to get into MOTH. to be honest, you didn't expect him to be there either as your senior. he was fragile according to the middle school you.

you felt a soft peck on your cheek. warmth start spreading across your cheeks. hot red. you felt curious, you were married to su but what if the world didn't have honkai? would you have a family with su?

grabbing su's hands, you asked him something that make him interested.

"su, if we were to have a child. what would you name them?"

"i prefer the mom to give the name."

"alhaitham."

"hm? alhaitham?"

"i want our child name as alhaitham... maybe in another life. i want to be your woman again."

you hugged him. he was soooo in loved with you. since your head was stuffed on his chest. you didn't saw the blushes forming on his face. he hide his face with his free hand that isn't holding you by the waist.

you felt peace for a second, but that ended when you were wide awake, gasping for air. you noticed you were actually drowning. what happened? how did it come to this? you felt like something is grabbing you. you fainted along the way.

stirring in your sleep, you could make out some noises but you were still in a state that you couldn't move. you could feel little feet walking in a state of hurry?

"—urry! nara is waking up!!"

nara? what is that? waking up? is it me...?

the first you saw was the purple ish blue sky.. it was like a dream world. then, suddenly a cabbage flew into your vision.

"ah, your awake!" it spoke? well, anything could be possible that im not even surprised anymore...

"where am i?"

"in varanara! aranara saw you drowning so we save you!"

"thank you..."

"nara don't seem like from these world.."

what those these creatures mean? im not from these world? sitting up while holding your head. you still feel the stinging pain... wait a minute, weren't you supposed to be dead?

you looked at your hand and saw blood. dried blood. touching your head again, you could feel some blood. ah, maybe the aranara was right.

"this is teyvat! and you are in sumeru, white nara!"

"you're not lying?"

"white nara seems like a good nara so aranara wouldn't lie. aranara could even teach you everything that's in this world! aranara is generous."

looking at the cabbage looking creatures. you agreed to the offer and asked if these was a dream world and they replied with yes.

if this was the dream world it would means that the time is working differently than the real world. you were determined to let the aranara teach you so you could see the real world. maybe this time, it wouldn't be black and grey before you met su.

knowledge is everything to you.

so the aranara was talking in your language because it knew you couldn't speak the teyvat language. lucky you, you were a prodigy so it was easy to learned the language.

the aranara teaches you everything they knew, so you could adapt to teyvat easier when you go back from this dream world. you knew what vision, archons and the cycle of this world. the creatures was so generous they give you a new pair of sumeru clothes to wear instead of your bloodied lab coat.

"all the aranara thinks you're ready."

"is that so? then im ready whenever you are to make me go back to the real world."

"you can still meet aranara in the real world!"

"i will be sure to visit you. thank you."

cleaning your face with water from the lake that you drowned in. you easily adapt to sumeru despite the rainforest. you wondered if you would meet other people here. while you were in the dream world, you make used of the fighting you have been doing. when you were in the MOTH, ofc you knew some fighting skills but you were in other departments. medical department specifically.

you weren't all that amazing. teyvat was beautiful, you could see colours. you learned that they were sumeru city and you still haven't got the chance to go there. you wanted to visit the akademiya and maybe test the wisdom of the students there.

even though you achieved the akasha upon entering sumeru city. you didn't planned on using it. you were wary of the people. why would they use the akasha terminal if their own nation is called the nation of wisdom. it was just a letdown. you kinda were lost but you managed to ask passerby on where the akademiya is. since you can't enter the akademiya because you're not a student.. you just roam around the garden and saw a child under a tree reading.

that child was so alike su. it was just like su. su would always read book in his free time when they were in middle school. he would always hold a straight face. always so grumpy. that's why you always tease him. the child appearance was like a carbon copy of su.

you tried your luck on walking towards him slowly to not make him noticed you. the child was reading a complicated book. you were flabbergasted. ah, he was like you when you were a child, your parents pressuring you to be the best but it looks like he was too engrossed in his reading that he doesn't noticed you already sitting beside him.

"what are you reading?"

the child widen his eyes and looked beside him. when did she got here? the boy thought. was her steps so light he didn't even noticed her? he doesn't want to make any friends with an adults but judging by her clothes. she's probably isn't an akademiya student.

"want me to teach you about this book?"

"i don't need any help..." looking back to his book and grumbled. you smiled at the sight of the child. the child keep glancing to you once in awhile and feels some sort of familiarity to you.

"is your name alhaitham?"

shocked. the boy was shocked on how the woman knew his name. "how did you know? are you a stalker?" surprised by the straight bluntness of the child, you sweat on how to tell him you knew of his name. it was just a coincidence.

"no... well, bye bye!"

you ran away as fast as you can that alhaitham ahoge even moved. out of sumeru city, you took a sit on a nearby tree. thinking back on the events that just happened, gathering your thoughts.

alhaitham looked beside him the place where you recently sat at. noticing a paper, he took it. seeing the pretty handwriting he wondered when did she wrote this.

'if you want to know my name, come find me somewhere in sumeru city or outside of it. i will not be too far from the city.

p.s this is the answers for the questions you were looking at for too long.'

the answers that you gave him was right. it was exactly identical to the answers he thought off.

few weeks later...

the first week, little alhaitham tried to find you inside sumeru city first to not worry his grandmother too much. he knew how his grandmother will be if he went out of sumeru city. he was unsuccessful tho.

the second week, he managed to find you. you were in puspa cafè with his grandmother having conversations. little alhaitham doesn't know what to feel when he saw a strange woman suddenly conversing with his grandmother. he just make the decision to just went straight to the table. "speaking of my grandchild, here he is." alhaitham's grandmother smiled at you. alhaitham looked at you with pure curiosity. "my name is [name]. nice to meet you, alhaitham."

why did you smiled at him with pure love and your voice was full of longing. alhaitham wasn't dense to those things.

the third week, you find alhaitham reading again under the same tree with another new book. "want me to teach you?" saying the same thing when you first met alhaitham. alhaitham looked up to you and back to the book. nodding his head, he gave you permission to teach him. you plop yourself beside him and softly took his book and started to teach him.

alhaitham understood you better. your voice was soft when talking to him. even though he liked being alone by himself but your presence comfort him just like how his grandmother's presence comfort him. he doesn't disliked you. he wondered if this is what it feels like to have a mother. he didn't really cared much about the topic regarding his dead parents but he sometimes wondered about it ofc.

"who really are you, [name]?"

"im just a feeble researcher, alhaitham."

you weren't lying. back in your world, you were a researcher. a medical one.

"are you warming up to me now, alhaitham?"

"mhm"

alhaitham was now sitting very close to you.

the fourth week, you find him sleeping under the cover of the tree with a book on his lap. it was almost evening and you worried that his grandmother might come and find him. patting his head (it was soft), you started to carry him.

it was a piece of cake on carrying him as he was still a child and you would always hold griseo. he was gripping his book hard even though he was sleeping. you knew that you were smiling widely. you were happy. alhaitham was like your own child, he also had the name that you wanted to name your own child (it would never happened).

"here is his room. thank you for carrying him, [name].."

"no problem.. carrying him was a piece of cake."

"i will leave you guys alone now."

you were tucking him under his covers. you sat on the side of his bed. a small smile appeared on your face. alhaitham is sleeping peacefully...

you kissed him on his forehead and mumbled "have a goodnight sleep, my dear alhaitham. may you have a good dream."

upon entering an empty classroom as school time ended. you saw su sleeping peacefully on his seat at the back with a book as his pillow. closing back the classroom door, you walked towards su's table and took the seat beside him. seeing his pretty face sleeping peacefully.

weeks turned to months and months turned into years. your relationship with alhaitham was closer than ever. alhaitham even called you mother now.

but you didn't last that long in alhaitham's life. before the year of his grandmother's death, on his birthday. you disappeared.

but there was presents on alhaitham's table with a letter.

'my dear alhaitham, forgive me for disappearing on your birthday. say hello to grandmother for me, will you? you're a good child. if i had a child i want you to be my child. im not from this world. i was not written into this world. the world doesn't know me. i was supposed to be dead in my real world but god decided to give me a chances on teyvat. keep this a secret. alhaitham, you are one of the people i cherish the most. even though you're not my child. me and my husband couldn't have a child because my world was in chaos, it wasn't peace. you reminded me so much of my husband.

this is my present for you, alhaitham. you hated small talk, right? why don't you take these noise cancelling devices? you can make some improvement and adjustment to it. you are a smart child after all. one last time, alhaitham. i love you.

happy birthday, my dear alhaitham. may you shine like gold.'

sighing to himself. he accidentally remembered the day he was given his noise cancelling devices. you were his parental figure. where did you decided to go? did you finally find a way to your own world? or did you travel teyvat like you wanted too?

taking off the devices, he looked at the design that you made for him. it was perfect for him. it went too well with his outfit. you knew him so well like he was your own child that you gave birthed too. he did made some adjustments to it but he never make changes to the design.

he liked the design. he wanted to meet his father too. is he really so much like him? you never really talked much about your husband to him. fiddling with the pages of the book he was reading. what was your husband name again?

right, it's su.

"i love you too, mother. i miss you." whispering to himself.

happy birthday to himself.

note: hi hi!! hope you loved it. idk the wordcount. idk maybe it's between 2k??? happy birthday my boy alhaitham.

taglist: @ladychiy0 @madcap-riflette

[deathbxnny]

hiii :)) can i request hi3rd men (kalpas,kosma,kevin,su) with a child/young teen!herrscher reader?

basically they got captured by fire moth but they still have humanity in them, so they are not dangerous unlike the other PE herscherrs

make it platonic thank tyouu

-----♡

A/N: Hello Anon! I love this idea so much, so thank you for the great request!<33

Content: Fluff, angst if you squint, platonic, fatherly relationships, child Herrscher reader, mentions of battle, kinda unserious at times, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Kosma

When Kosma was assigned to taking care of you, he couldn't help but sigh softly. He already had a little sister to take care of... and now he also had to deal with a young Herrscher child too? He didn't know what to do with you at first, yet decided to not treat you any different than he treated Griseo. Even if he was still distant, until he began warming up to you.

He was able to easily see past you being a Herrscher, mainly because it was obvious that you were still human deep down and were practically harmless. He sometimes even forgets, that you're a Herrscher because of it. He just sees no reason to treat you any differently than a child, even with you being a supposed "monster", that you were obviously not.

Despite everything however, he still keeps you out of trouble at all times and often keeps you close to Griseo, so that he can keep an eye on you two. He may not talk or interact with you much, but you can still tell that he does care about you alot. Griseo does too, in her own way.

-----♡

》Kalpas

Whoever decided to assign you to him, must've really not liked you. And he didn't either, at first at least. He made it very much known too, until he made you cry. He panicked, not knowing what to do, before he just patted your head a little harshly and told you to knock it off and that he didn't mean it... kinda.

Since he's now stuck with you, he at first tries to avoid you, only watching you from afar for a while with a grumpy expression, until he concluded that you were indeed not dangerous, which confused him a little. But alas, it also made him quite curious, despite his initial annoyance, which made him eventually warm up to you a little.

In other words, he sees potential in you becoming stronger and therefore trains with you often, so that he can strengthen your abilities as a Herrscher. This actually makes you two bond alot quicker and proves even further, that you aren't evil. Perhaps you weren't all that bad... not that he'd ever tell you that.

-----♡

》Kevin Kaslana

Kevin was sceptical about you at first and even nearly decided to get rid of you himself... until he noticed that you were very much harmless. You had the humanity that Herrschers usually lacked and that made him immediately find interest in you. Though, mostly only for selfish reasons at first.

He only ever saw you as a weapon for the organisation, until he eventually began seeing you nearly like an actual child, the more time he spent with you. It was hard not to, when you looked and acted like one.

It may seem like he doesn't care about you, but he does, just not in an obvious or direct way. He takes care of everything you may need or gives you anything you want. He claimed it was to keep you calm and obedient for the organisation. But it was really just because he couldn't help but feel satisfied and warm, when he saw your innocent eyes gleam with joy, everytime he gave you something nice.

-----♡

》Su

He just immideatly accepts you into the organisation and makes sure to make you feel as welcomes as he can. He completely overlooks the fact that you're a Herrscher, mainly because he already knows you're harmless. He's calm and patient with you and doesn't mind, if it takes you a while to adjust to everything.

He acknowledges, that you're just a child and therefore treats you as one. He keeps you out of harms way and provides you with everything you may need. Ofcourse, he still keeps an eye on you, just in case your abilities get out of control. But he'll help you with those too eventually.

Su will also makes sure, that the organisation doesn't use you for anything dangerous and that you're always close to him. He becomes quite protective and gentle with you overtime and perhaps even sees you as his little sibling or child. Either way, you're in good hands with him.

-----♡

A/N: I hope this is okay! Thank you again for the request!<33

[lizzy06]

Shouta Aizawa Fics Recs!!(Tumblr/Ao3/Wattpad)

My Hero Academia Fic Rec Masterlist

Shouta Aizawa x Reader

FIVE TIMES ✨by @damnzawa (oneshot, fluff) In which the faculty at U.A. — ehem Present Mic and Midnight — and 1-A tried to get the two of them together, only to find out they were together all along.

How Convenient by mighty-mighty-man (Pair_Up)(oneshot, humor(?))The night shift at the convenience store was going so well. You got to hear some good tunes, you made a sale, you made conversation with a handsome hero. But then a robber shows up. [COMPLETED]

Lazy Egg ✨✨by mighty-mighty-man (Pair_Up) (slice of life, fluff)You work at an animal shelter.When Aizawa Shouta adopts your favorite cat, your lives become inexplicably intertwined. And strangely enough, it all seems to be for the better.[COMPLETED]

“did he steal two babies?”✨ by @bakugohoex (oneshot, fluff)in which you’re aizawa’s secret wife, aizawa gets a call in the middle of class that you’re going into labor and eventually leaves, the class being noisy pricks follows him to a hospital, feeling worried they continue to follow until they see him holding two babies with a smile at his new family. [COMPLETED]

Victory by @bnhascribbles (oneshot, fluff) Just a fluffy story about you and your husband. [COMPLETED]

Chocolate hearts✨ by LetheSomething  (fluff, sloeburn, angst, serial killers)A group of villains calling themselves the Valentine Killers are going around murdering people.Their target? Pro hero loved ones. Aizawa Shouta is utterly convinced he has nothing to worry about. He's wrong. [COMPLETED]

Stray Cats. Aizawa Shouta x fem!reader ✨by http_vanished (kinda enemies to lovers , fluff, angst)A man under the alias ‘Eraserhead’ is your favourite author of all timeAs part of your bucket list, you write him a letter expressing your admiration. Never in a thousand years did you expect a rely, inviting you over for dinner to meet him, all-expense paid for. However things don’t go exactly as you planned as the man you idolised for years turns out to be grumpy, scruffy man with an appalling attitude.[COMPLETED]

Lucky Cat ✨by kalpa (oneshot, fluff, humor, slice of life, smut)You're utterly convinced your quirk is having shit luck and attracting trouble everywhere you go. Thankfully, a certain underground hero is always there to save the day.[COMPLETED]

Hurting Together by  @dira333 /Fogfire(oneshot, sorta humor(?))You meet in the waiting room of a Clinic, but opening up about your respective illnesses isn't as easy as you might have thought. Or how Aizawa makes an ass of himself because he tries to flirt on painkillers.[COMPLETED]

Caught in Love by @mooncademia (oneshot, fluff, kinda secret relationship)After getting a job offer at U.A, your love life w/ Aizawa has officially transferred to school. And you loved it.

The Cat and the Key (Aizawa x Reader) by EVoDanger (oneshot, fluff, slowburn)The most wanted woman in town has announced that she'll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat's neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail. The cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them.[COMPLETED]

suffer the signs ✨by advantagetexas (oneshot, hanahaki au, angst with happy ending)You begin coughing up petals soon after beginning work as the new UA nurse. You know what they are, you know why they're afflicting you, but you refuse to let them control you.[COMPLETED]

Quirk Smirk by Meldy_Writes (fluff, humor)Quirkless Female Reader moves to Musutafu to reconnect with her estranged sister, Inko, and her newfound nephew, Izuku. everything is going fine until she learns that her kind-of-attractive-kind-of-a-dick neighbor is a pro-hero… and also her nephew's homeroom teacher.[COMPLETED]

But they're soft... by coffee_dessert (fluff, humor)When a black cat is found unconscious in the pouring rain, what's a good samaritan to do? In which the reader takes care of Aizawa after he's been affected by a transformation Quirk.[COMPLETED]

What a Cliché by kingyohna (flowershop au, fluff, slowburn, mutual pinning)Aizawa doesn't know much about pop culture, but he knows it's a definite cliché to fall for someone working in a flower shop.[COMPLETED]

Together, Always. by kalpa (oneshot, soulmate au, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst)Ever since you were young, you've done what's expected of you. But after a chance meeting with a hero and after saving two cats, you begin to wonder just what you truly want out of life.[COMPLETED]

Fill my little world (right up) by tsumoo  (single parent aizawa, nanny! reader, fluff, family feels)you are employed by aizawa shouta to nanny for his vulnerable adoptive daughter eri while he’s at work. as time passes you find yourself equally smitten with them both, longing for a more permanent place in their family.[COMPLETED]

Breathless by Mishme(oneshot, fluff, hurt/comfort) In which you experience the different types of kisses from the pro hero, Eraserhead.[COMPLETED]

Chocolate Milk by MariaTheBrave(oneshot, fluff)“Mr. Aizawa,” Mina broke from the others and made a beeline to her teacher, “why didn’t you tell us you have a kid?!”[COMPLETED]

The Reaper (Aizawa x female reader) by Emltar (fluff, smut, enemies to lovers, trauma)You're a teacher at UA with a tragic past trying to keep some semblance of peace in your shattered life. Can a grumpy caterpillar break through your defenses or will you lose yourself completely?[COMPLETED]

Newfound by mysoftestecho (strangers to friends to lovers, smut, fluff)You move to a new town to start teaching at UA. It's a new life for you and you're excited to see what it brings.[COMPLETED]

Home is where you are by speia(oneshot, fluff, comfort)Just a casual Valentine's Day[COMPLETED]

Puzzle Pieces ✨by iimber(fluff, angst, mutual pinning, stalker)Years of piecing together your life to the point were it's near perfect come crashing down when you gain an extremely dedicated stalker. After coming to a head, you leave your life in Tokyo to seek safety back in Musutafu. [ONGOING<idk could be discontinued too😭>]

Shouta Aizawa x Emi Fukukado(Ms. Joke)

But I remember you✨✨ by JackieMoonshine (oneshot, fluff, humor)A fun EraserJoke one-shot that struggles with whether it wants to be a comedy or drama. Either way, I like it.[COMPLETED]

A Happy Family with Never-Ending Laughter ✨by Yojimbra (domestic fluff, humor, smut)In order to raise Eri properly, Eraserhead seeks help from the one person he can trust. Ms. Joke.Eri is so screwed.[COMPLETED]

Nature, Nurture, and Chocolate Milk  by  Nuclear_Equipped_ Walking _ Battle_Tank (oneshot, fluff, humor, izuku and shinsou are brothers)The Aizawa family goes shopping . An appropriate amount of tomfoolery ensues. [COMPLETED]

this sudden burst of sunlight, and me with my umbrella  by  lettersfromnowhere (fluff, angst, family feels)the one where Eri gets a mom, Aizawa gets a headache, Emi adopts half of UA, and laughter really is the best medicine.[COMPLETED]

he hadn't the time by ohmytheon (oneshot, friends to lovers, bad at feelings)Over the ten years that Shota has known Emi Fukukado, she has been far too loud, bubbly, bright, and positive for his taste. She's probably one of the most annoying people he knows. She is also an extremely capable hero and an excellent teacher. There has to be a reason that their paths keep meeting and it has to be more than just to drive him crazy.[COMPLETED] he took the time by ohmytheon (oneshot, smut, fluff)If Emi keeps joking about Shouta taking her home, one of these nights he's going to take her up on that offer. Turns out, it's not a joke at all, not one bit.[COMPLETED]

Bursting with Laughter, Blooming in Flowers✨ by dracula420 (hanahaki au, angst with happy ending, fluff)Emi Fukukado loves jokes. She’s got a million of ‘em. You ever heard the one about the girl that repressed her unrequited love until it turned into a disease? That ones a classic.[COMPLETED]

The Last Laugh ✨✨by FeralPen (friends to lovers, temp. unrequited love, fluff, light angst) Emi Fukukado had two goals in life: become the hero who makes everyone smile, and crack Eraserhead's shell to make him laugh. Getting a date along the way would just be a bonus.[COMPLETED]

Sands and eyelashes by Iamanormalperson(misunderstanding, pinning) Eraserhead and Ms. Jokes had taken down a villain. That's it, but the others saw something else.[COMPLETED]

Inside Joke by Huinari  (oneshot, fluff)Five times Ms. Joke asked Eraserhead to marry her, and one time she didn’t.[COMPLETED]

Subtle Like a Lion’s Cage by aactionjohnny(fluff, mutual pinning, hurt/comfort)Ketsubutsu is under construction, so the students are staying at UA. Unfortunately for Aizawa, that also means Ms. Joke will be around.[COMPLETED]

Never Again (but maybe I'll give you a chance) by SplashingInPonds (oneshot, feels)After a disastrous mess of emotions and a big joke at his expense in high school, Shouta Aizawa decided that he was never going to let himself feel that way again. That is until he meets a persistent woman with sea green hair that seems to actually hold something genuine underneath her overly jovial hero persona.[COMPLETED]

I’m Ms. Joke: Ask Me Anything! by dracula420(oneshot, humor) Aizawa lurks the internet and finds a rather interesting topic on a very famous forum site.[COMPLETED]

make your move by velvari (smut)Mr. Aizawa finally makes a move on Ms. Joke.[COMPLETED]

Drinking Makes the Truth Come Out by The_Sensei_Simp (oneshot, jealousy, fluff) Two years after the war, the Pro-Hero teachers of U.A. High School go out for drinks to celebrate their summer vacation, since they had not in a while. What happens when Shouta Aizawa runs into Ms. Joke the Smile Hero AKA Emi Fukakado, who catches his attention when a coworker of hers is too friendly with her and it makes him jealous?[COMPLETED]

[peonysgreenhouse]

-`♡´- kisses + the 13 flame-chasers

summary: what it says on the tin!

tags: flame-chasers x gn!reader, griseo's is platonic of course, fluff, lots of kissies.

i. kevin kaslana

kevin’s last try at love had left him unable to touch anything living, his body now colder than ice. he craves the contact he once was able to give and receive freely, but to sacrifice his own body in pursuit of the MOTH’s goals was something he was more than willing to do. but even the icy-hearted first flame chaser has his moments of weakness. in those moments he’ll grab your tie, or the end of your skirt and bring it up to his lips, inhaling the scent he was never close enough to know, and wonder how warm your skin felt underneath.

ii. elysia

elysia adores everything about you, and she wants you to know how much you are loved every moment she is with you. she places kisses to any place she can reach, but more than that she loves watching your reactions. so human, so beautiful. it’s not rare to end up with her rosy gloss all over you.

iii. aponia

aponia likes listening to you breathe. underneath a tree in the tall grass, your head in her lap. it’s one of the few times she feels she can live in the present. the future is the farthest thing from her mind as she leans down and places a kiss to your forehead, telling you to go to sleep. she doesn’t command you to do it so, but with her soft humming, you soon drift off. aponia kisses your eyelids, then, and prays for your dreams to be pleasant.

iv. eden

her lips taste of the finest wine; how could you not get intoxicated after kissing her? the high of eden’s performance doesn’t wear off for hours, and she loves to perch you up on her vanity and kiss you until she’s satisfied… and eden is hard to satiate. out of all the endless riches she has amassed, you are her favorite treasure of all.

v. vill-v

the great magician loves to woo you with her performances. look down into their hat and when you see nothing inside, she’ll tilt your chin up and give you a quick peck.

the expert likes to ramble off her ideas for projects — you’re the only one allowed in their lab. it’s not often they get excited about things, but with you there she finds that old passion for inventing return in spades. when you aren’t looking, she’ll place a lingering kiss to your temple, whispering out her thanks.

vill-v loves you wholly, with every part of themself.

vi. kalpas

you’re one of the few who has gotten to see under kalpas’s mask. his skin is fair, sunken pale eyes tired and angry. it’s the first time he lets you see underneath that you finally get to kiss him. his teeth are bared, and he threatens to kill you for standing so close. but when your lips touch his own, all feigned malice melts away, and he pulls you into him hard.

vii. su

his kisses are featherlight, as soft as a summer breeze. as busy as he is with his work, he will always find pockets of time to spend with you. even if it’s just as small as kissing your cheek before he leaves for work, he will remember your loving eyes, the way the morning light made your skin glow, your small smile… yes, this is one memory that will follow him forevermore.

viii. SAKURA

SAKURA always looks for you after battles. she is covered in bruises and cuts that will leave ugly scars later, but she needs to know you’re okay; that the one person left that she loves is still there. she ushers you someplace quiet and hums, a familiar song that she once sang to RIN and patches you up. you tell her of an old superstition that you once heard, and she takes it to heart. SAKURA doesn’t let you go until she’s placed her lips against every future scar, promising you that next time, she’ll keep you safe.

ix. kosma

try as he might, he will never be able to figure out what you’re thinking. when you reassure him that you like him, he wonders if you mean in a way that he can sit close to you. it’s easier show him what’s on your mind, tilt his chin up and plant a sweet kiss to his lips. kosma will think about your touch for a long time, one hand touching his lips and the other balled into his tunic. he hopes you’ll kiss him again and again.

x. mobius

mobius tastes sickeningly sweet, you sometimes wonder if her lipstick is laced with poison. when mobius kisses you, it is needy, her lips moving hard and fast against your own, pressing you against her lab table. when she pulls back, you’re seeing stars, and she grins at you like a predator. you can’t help but think if this is where you die, it wouldn’t be so bad.

xi. griseo

mama aponia tells griseo that kisses are reserved for people she loves. and so she gives mama aponia a kiss on the cheek before she goes to look for inspiration. today, you are her muse, and you sit for hours as she paints every color that she sees in you; each one unique to you. once you’re done, she tugs your sleeve and tells you to come look. you tell her it’s beautiful, and she kisses you on the cheeks as thanks.

xii. fu hua

hua fights with her fists, and so the bruises left on her knuckles are forever rosy, never allowed to fully heal. when she spars with you, she never goes easy, and you’re face down in the dirt after only one round. she notices the deep purple of fresh bruises on your hands, and places a kiss to each one, praising you for trying so hard.

xiii. pardofelis

pardo loves all things shiny, but she’s found she doesn’t mind being paid in kisses from time to time. she purrs as you take her cheeks into your hands, kissing her all over the face. felis can’t help but laugh at the way it tickles, falling forward into your lap and nuzzling into your neck.

[kashimos-hajime]

—𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐚𝐥-𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦

summary: he hasn’t dreamed in a long time, but when al-haitham dreamed for the first time after the akademiya coup, he dreamed of you.

WARNINGS: archon quest akasha pulses, the kalpa flame rises spoilers! soulmate au if you squint, swearing, mentions of violence, death, injury, minor self-loathing, plot AND lore heavy, angst, fluff, not poly, happy ending!  pairing: al-haitham x fem!reader, minor kaveh x fem!reader word count: 18.1k grind

a/n: written for the lovely @zhongrin​ and her elemental supercharge collab! it was super fun to work on and really inspired me to love writing again because it was just a breath of fresh air. my entry: dendro + dendro + cryo = permafrost 

here are some important notes for this fic to help with understanding it:

tsaritsa is the former goddess of love. the goddess of flowers was a seelie. king deshret reborn was al-haitham. possibly ooc al-haitham (he’s also deaf!) i made shit up about teleport waypoints and about pretty much all the lore surrounding the three god-kings besides what i glimpsed through some books/theories/etc. i was just like fuck it we ball. 

inspo songs: who is she? - i monster, about you - the 1975, awake from a nightmare - hoyo-mix (i recommend you listen to this one especially during kaveh - chat: craftsmanship)

now on ao3 x

Greater Lord Rukkhadevata - About the Goddess of Flowers

In the place where Padisarahs bloom, two gods speak in the absence of their third. The Lord of Flowers picks these Padisarahs and the Greater Lord watches, entranced in the velvet purple petals that gleam in the sun.

The latter says: “You know the price to be paid if he searches for that divine nail.”

The other says: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t pretend to be a fool. You and I both know that—”

“Rukkhadevata.”

The Dendro Archon is silenced.

At last, the scorned one speaks. She has lost her people, her home. She refuses to die until Celestia is buried beneath her bloodied hands. “There is nothing to be done. Do you think Deshret’s mind sways so easily? He is set on finding the answers he seeks, and I am set on aiding in his endeavours.”

“But you… why? You understand what the Heavenly Principles are capable of, and you still put yourself in their line of fire. Again. Why?”

“Because Deshret asked.”

“I don’t think you understand what he is asking you to do.”

“No? Then, you have no idea of what I am, Rukkhadevata, and you are the one who won’t ever understand.”

Deshret - About the Divine Nail

The sandstorm is brutal, tearing at their clothes, their skin, blinding their eyes and clogging their throats. It had picked up so suddenly, there’d barely been enough time for Deshret to shield her from the first impact before realizing that the storm chaotically revolves around them. Around him. Uncontrollable winds swiping through the eye of a hurricane do not with hold their strength from the Goddess of Flowers, but Deshret, the powerful God-King remains untouched. 

He pulls her in closer to his side. The Goddess of Flowers can barely see straight by the time the divine nail rises to its full height, her withered body barely able to withstand the powerful galeforces that pull at her every which way. 

The divine nail is beautiful, glowing blue, refracting gold, and she can only smile as Deshret beside her raises a hand. He, too, glows, but he glows like the sun, like divinity.

“You’ve done it,” she congratulates through her weeping. The sand burns into her corneas, brands her lungs, but nothing touches her heart, and that is how she knows the reason it is shrivelling in her chest is because she is dying. The god beside her, the one holding her hand, turns, and she can’t help her laugh. “I told you once, though, that you would lose much in this exchange.”

“What?” His hand springs off her wrist, but her body is already disintegrating. It feels like it did when her kind was casted from their old home; her body thinned into a husk of what it used to be. Back then, she had prioritzed saving her mind over every inch of her beauty, yet now… now she doesn’t have the strength to save anything. 

Deshret cannot protect the Goddess of Flowers from a trade conducted by those who rule above gods. “No… no, what is happening? You’re…”

“I hope,” she cuts off cleanly, “that one day, I can love you without any selfish desire. I hope… in another life, another samsara as Rukkhadevata would so fondly call it, I will love you more than you ever loved me.” His eyes widen, and a trembling hand reaches for her face. The Goddess of Flowers smiles. Tilts her head into his palm, and laughs again through the tears that evaporate off her cheeks as soon as they spring off her eyelashes.

He is incinerating to touch—a conduit of swirling sand, an incarnation of the sun. How ironic it is that the hand that once saved her from the sands will be the hand that seals her fate amongst the dunes.

Stepping closer, her flesh burns away when she cradles his face. He is shining so brightly. A brilliant morning star, a genius with a hungry mind, a gluttonous scholar. The God-King of the Desert.

Yet, Deshret does not seem like the god everyone makes him about to be.

Before the Goddess of Flowers, Deshret is nothing more than a man, crying and holding onto her with all his might. 

A soft part of her melts at his expression.

“In all honesty,” she whispers, soft and choked, “I aided you because, in your ambitious vision of the future, I saw the possibility that you could free all of us from the shackles that chain us to the Heavenly Principles. In the end, it was my own selfish nature that led us here, and it is my own doing that marked your path to be one that you will have to walk alone.”

Deshret takes hold of her face, eyes searching, but the goddess withdraws her hands to settle her fingers on his wrists lightly.

“It was not your fault, Deshret.”

“No!” She pulls his wrists away, but he curls his hands into fists, fighting to free himself from her grip. For once, it is impossible, and he lets out a desperate growl, tears glinting upon his cheeks. “Don’t leave me. Don’t… don’t go.”

“Deshret—“

“Stay. Just a little while longer. I will take that divine nail and hammer it into this world, and build you an eternal oasis where I will bring you back to life with the knowledge that spills from its organs.” Lunging forward, his hands find themselves on the sides of her neck, thumbs stretching to trace the lines of her jaw. “I will not lose you. I cannot lose you!”

The ragged storm enflames, the winds grow deafening, loud enough to resemble a constant thunder that echoes in the hollowness of her chest. 

“Don’t worry about that sort of thing, Deshret.” 

Her voice is very weak now. When she swallows, sand shreds her insides and her eyes burn from the strength it’s taking to avoid coughing up iron.

“We will meet again,” she continues. “If Rukkhadevata has a hand in anything, it is the wisdom that pools around all of us, and the knowledge that there will not be an era where we are separated.”

“No, no, don’t go!”

But it falls futilely on deaf ears. The Goddess of Flowers lets go, and steps backward, her knees shaking, her frame swaying from the winds she can no longer fight. 

As soon as her heel tucks into the edge of the unrelenting galeforce, she is ripped away, and the Goddess of Flowers disappears.

Tighnari - Something to Share: Akademiya Days

If one asked Tighnari what he thought of the Artificer of the Akademiya, he would return that inquiry with one of his own:

“Do you mean my thoughts on the Artificer alone, or about her relationship with the Scribe of the Akademiya?”

The truth of the matter is, the Scribe and the Artificer’s history go past colleagues at the Akademiya, past scholars searching for a thesis, for once upon a time, they were students, too.

Paimon isn’t aware of this: “Er… I don’t know. Did they know one another?”

“Al-Haitham wields his practicality like a spear. Nothing could quite faze him or outwit him. Nothing could unsettle him, except for the Artificer. She was a student in his year, but she was a scholar of the Kshahrewar Darshan. They were quite the reliable pair of scholars.” A soft hum. 

“Really? Al-Haitham doesn’t seem like the partner type.”

“He isn’t. I suppose exceptions could be made when it came to her. I met Al-Haitham through the Artificer, actually, when they were working on some sort of prototype translation device for foreigners and she had asked if Sumeru’s scientific names for plants from other nations were derived from their original language.” Tighnari’s ears twitch. “I didn’t know her well back then, but from my brief meetings with her, she was very lively and happy. She didn’t care about the Sages and the politics surrounding the Six Darshans. All she wanted was to study. I think her thesis was to find a way to repair the Teleport Waypoints around Sumeru. It made quite the wave back in our day.”

“The Teleport Waypoints?” Paimon says. “Paimon noticed that they’re guarded by the Corps Of Thirty in Sumeru when in other nations they’re pretty much abandoned.”

“Her hypothesis that they’d been placed by some higher power than the Archons is a banned reference material and only the highest level of scholars are aware of the theory,” Tighnari says, and there’s a far off look in his eyes. “The Corps of Thirty supposedly defend these sites for a historical scholar for the day she comes home, but to be honest,” he adds quieter, “I think they were ordered to defend the Waypoints from the Artificer should she ever return.”

.

Technological advancement in Sumeru had progressed far enough that prototype cochlear implants are, though not a norm, a potential alternative than going through life unaware. The alternative is only made available by the resources of the Akademiya and Al-Haitham’s enrolment there since it’s where he can maintain upkeep with the help of Kshahrewar students who were overseeing this new piece of headgear. 

You are the student assigned ot make sure his top of the line technological headwear didn’t go awry. You spend a lot of time with him, which means, against all odds, the bright, voracious, and laughing sun of the Kshahrewar Darshan has become Al-Haitham’s friend.

He had avoided it at first. Honestly. In the three years they’ve been together as mechanic and project, it took almost a year for Al-Haitham to consider even looking forward to seeing you every Thursday afternoon where you’d fiddle with his settings and write down notes on his condition.

And, yet, when he conceded to the fact that you were a staple to him—a constant in the ever-changing nature of the Akademiya’s cutthroat landscape where scholars dropped at the tip of a hat—he found that he learned more about you in the first month he gave in than he did in the last twelve he resisted. 

Each factoid is like a dash in his head: your thesis is to be about the possibility of repairing the shattered Teleport Waypoints scattered across the nation, and how you’d go about doing it. Your work with Al-Haitham is just a way to investigate how the Akasha terminal and said Teleport Waypoints could work in tandem. Your life goal is for the latter to work on its own some day like it did in ages past and ease travel for those who could not afford to.

“It’s an altruistic thing to do.”

“I’m from Snezhnaya, but I moved here when I was younger.” You’re sitting across from him at the library as you tinker with a device similar to the one on his ears. “I used to go back every summer, but now that I’m at the Akademiya, I haven’t returned because I don’t have time, so the Teleport Waypoints would help with seeing my family more often, too. I’m not all good.”

He doesn’t look up from his book, although above the top of it, he can see your fingers deftly trying to rearrange wires. “Family?”

“Mhm. My father is a researcher here. My mother stayed back home. I grew up in a small hamlet, you know.”

He smiles faintly, flipping a page. “Yes, I know. It’s one of the first things you told me.”

“Oh, well… I didn’t think you’d remember,” you say, and he finally looks up from the pages to find you staring. You don’t look away, and instead, your smile grows as you tilt your head. “You’ve got beautiful eyes. Has anyone ever told you that before, Al-Haitham?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answers. That’s another thing about you. You always say his name when you speak to him, as if to make sure that he understands you are directing such things to him.

That, and just the way you say his name. Every syllable purposeful, in that voice of yours that edges on melodic. You still have a Snezhnayan accent when you say certain words, including ones of Sumeran origin.

“Well, you do. They’re so beautiful.” Your smile makes your eyes crinkle as you return to your project, and Al-Haitham clears his throat, fighting the red that’s burning his ears. Scratching his jaw, he shakes his head minutely and instead tries to think of anything else.

You like oranges, but have a secret soft spot for peaches. You like reading romance, and you love art. Your father is a member of the Spantamad Darshan, and during his thesis, he travelled back to his homeland and fostered a family, which includes his eldest daughter, you.

The same you he can’t stop thinking of now that he’s stuck on it.

Later, when they begin to pack up their things from the library, in between him slipping a book into his bag and you sliding each tool back into its spot in your case, he asks if you’d like to have dinner with him at Lambad’s Tavern.

“Alright, but I’ll have to drop this off at my work room before I do. I don’t want to damage it,” you answer, tilting your head to your project wrapped in cloth which you’ve carefully nestled into a box.

“That sounds fine. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the tree, then?” he asks and you smile fondly at him, the box in your arms and your bag slung across your shoulder.

“Give me a minute or two,” you say. “I won’t be long.”

Al-Haitham bids you farewell at the entrance to the House of Daena, and you walk off with a bright smile, your figure outlined in a melting sunset gold. There’s not a lot of people outside—most have found shelter in Akademiya buildings or they’re out in the city, trying to maintain a social life as well as a scholar can.

“(Name)!” someone shouts, and Al-Haitham, who’d been walking down the ramp, looks up to see a tall, slim figure bolt past him. Blond hair flashes in the burning orange of dusk as a man runs past, and Al-Haitham twists around to avoid being hit by him as a foul word springs to his tongue.

But then, he realizes what the man had yelled and who the man even is the longer he stares at his retreating back, and Al-Haitham shakes his head.

You won’t be happy with him if he gets into an argument with your childhood best friend of all people.

Kaveh is easy-going, passionate, and empathetic. It is… to say the least, everything Al-Haitham is not. He’s met him once or twice out of pure coincidence, and he’s seen the blond around you more often than not. A part of him dislikes his nature. His whimsical, idealistic view of their future does not fall into line with how Al-Haitham sees it, and borders on idiotic considering that a romantic vision is not feasible in a nation where knowledge seeks to rationalize every existing thing.

The more logical half of him knows that you share all the same traits as Kaveh, and that the real reason behind his disdain is because Kaveh clearly has romantic feelings for you, and you return them.

It isn’t difficult to decipher the nature of your relationship with your “childhood best friend.”

How else would you describe the way his hand wraps around your elbow when other people want your attention and how when he leans to whisper something in your ear, you never fail to laugh and swat at him, your own arm looped through his.

He thinks that sick, logical side of him would pay to see you stumble through your words as you try to explain your relationship with your friend, but he can’t bare to do it. It feels cruel when all you’ve been is patient and kind with him.

“You seem distracted, Al-Haitham,” you intone with concern. You cradle tea in your hands, and cock your head at him, a thoughtful frown playing at your lips. “Is something wrong?”

Blinking, Al-Haitham finds you looking at him with those wonderful and warm eyes, and that logical side of him vanishes—a rat scurrying from the sunlight and back into the dark.

“No. No, I was merely thinking of something,” he dismisses, poking at the food he’s barely touched. The tavern is loud—almost too loud. His head aches with the amount of thoughts that swirl around, clattering in cacophony. It’d been stupid to suggest this place when he’s so tired from studying. Archons, he wants it to stop now. To get up and run, to curl up with a book and a warm fire, to tell them to stop, everyone, please, for the love of the Dendro Archon, shut the fuck up—

You laugh, and set down your cup of tea, reaching over to grab his wrist and squeeze gently, and his world goes quiet. It zeroes in on you, and the softness of your palm betrays the calluses on your fingers, a strange juxtaposition against his wrist.

“I know it’s hard,” you utter teasingly, “but I want you to stop thinking tonight. Nothing about studies, or labs, or anything about any kind of dictionary.” He smiles at that as you stroke your thumb over the back of his hand. “Just you and me, and this food.”

“Duly noted,” he mutters, and you smile again, returning to your own supper. But he cannot. His eyes do not stray, and his shoulders sink into his body, invisible weight sloughing off his skeletal frame.

All Al-Haitham does is watch you eat, rice slipping between two perfect lips, lips he knows, lips he could draw, and he’s not even close to resembling an artist. A mouth he can paint without seeing the reference, eyes closed, asleep, unconscious. A mouth he has dreamed of before, and he wonders just how he can tell you that, now, the reason he can’t stop thinking is because he’s thinking about you.

Collei - About Technology: Lockboxes

“What do you wanna know?” Collie asks brightly. “Oh, this is the Artificer’s seal! How do you have this?”

“We found it in the Balladeer’s chambers. It was addressed to Al-Haitham but we can’t seem to open it.”

“That’s probably because you need his permission to open it. Most of her work is password protected, so I guess that means including this. Top secret stuff. Master Tighnari received a few cases back before I knew him, though they’re still in his quarters.” She sighs. “Apparently, all her work is more valuable than a lot of the stuff the Sages hold, according to Master Tighnari, because she went missing and there is no way to replicate it.”

“I thought Tighnari didn’t know her well,” the Traveler mutters to themself quietly, before asking, louder, “Missing?”

“I don’t know much about what happened, but she went missing five years ago after an expedition went wrong. Apparently, a huge snowstorm overtook the desert and she was swallowed up by the sand. The rest of her team came out fine, but her and some other Spantamad scholar just… died in that snow. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen! So much snow it almost completely covered the sand dunes.”

“That’s strange,” intones Paimon. “It’s so hot and dry here, wouldn’t the snow just melt?”

“It seemed like a freak incident,” Collei agrees, “but the Sages were scrambling to figure out why. The Akademiya was in a flurry that whole season before it died down.” Her eyes fall to the box the Traveler holds again. It has a flat surface, with no keyhole, yet it’s sealed shut, and Collei hums. “Maybe, they’re just blueprints and stuff to keep safe. That’s what Master Tighnari has in his boxes. Or, maybe it’s a secret treasure!”

“It could be,” the Traveler answers. “But I haven’t been able to find Al-Haitham.”

“He’ll show up,” Collie assures confidently. “He always does.”

.

As a member of the Haravatat Darshan, Al-Haitham is capable of speaking nearly every living language in Teyvat and a handful of dead ones. It’s required for him to graduate alongside a well-founded dissertation. He wrote his own on the developing dialects of sign language across the regions, which he recited in front of his professor entirely in sign language.

A bit much, but Al-Haitham is nothing if not thorough.

He already has a reputation in his Darshan to be no nonsense, borderline rude, and a lone wolf, but brilliant, and the future of the Akademiya. A prodigy with no morality of the common sort, Al-Haitham walks the Akademiya grounds knowing that there are few who can shatter the earth beneath his feet. 

If the Sages are right, the current Scribe should be stepping down soon, and he could take that position easily. All access to so many projects would be granted, and he wouldn’t be short on resources for things he’d like to study. It’d also grant him more time to pursue his own endeavours. The desert is sorely understudied, but the rumours of a Divine Knowledge Capsule floating around the black markets, too, piques his interest.

Al-Haitham is a scholar without equal.

“Al-Haitham, there you are.”

Yet… in front of you, he’s nothing more than an awkward boy who doesn’t know what to say.

In the years since they’ve been mere fresh-faced students, you’ve graduated, too. Now, you work as a Dastur, leading expeditions with your father. Al-Haitham’s met him multiple times, but he’s been returning to Snezhnaya recently according to you. You’ve even overtaken some of his smaller projects.

“That’s not any of your responsibility,” he had pointed out in quiet Snezhnayan when he had come across you returning late to the city from an expedition to Avidiya Forest. Mud had ruined your shoes, and you looked up at him, moving to dump your bag on the ground. He had caught it before it could crash to the ground. Your eyes glinted, pleased, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

When his arms wrapped around your waist, you had seemed to melt into his body. Your fingers found purchase in his hair, and your nose dug into his neck as you sighed.

“Well, it’s my father,” you murmur in your mother tongue, strangely beautiful against his skin. It was one of the first languages he challenged himself to learn. You are much more subdued when you speak in the dialect of your homeland, yet no less beautiful. An everlasting snowflake in the middle of a rainforest. “He is most important to me, and I must do what he asks.”

He walked you home that night without you even asking.

Your smile is impossible to refuse, your laughter one of the few sounds that can bring him to a sane state of mind. A scholar without equal means a mind that never sleeps, and when Al-Haitham has enough of it all, he seeks solace in your mouth and your hands; your fingers carding through his hair, your lips whispering against his ear.  

A solace, no doubt, Kaveh receives nightly considering you two live together now on the stipend the Akademiya provides. Al-Haitham’s thoughts have driven him to stay up late on his most exhausted days, wondering what you did when you parted from the dinners they’ve scarcely scheduled and you returned back to that small house you shared with your childhood best friend. 

What do you and Kaveh even do every night anyway? Dinner, and conversations over what? The arts and poetics that Kaveh constantly waxes, whether or not you’re around? 

You plant yourself in front of him to stop in his tracks, and Al-Haitham’s eyes dart from your face to your neck against his will. 

Clear. It’s always clear.

“I’ve been looking for you,” you say.

“Have you?” Flippant. A bag hangs off your shoulders, and a shorter cut of the uniform drapes off your frame. Against his will, his heart sinks. “You look like you’re packed for another expedition.”

“Mhm. I’m going out into the desert for a month, maybe two. There’s a Teleport Waypoint near the Mausoleum of King Deshret that’s been displaying some abnormal levels of energy, so it might be a breakthrough depending on the cause.”

“You think there’s a Ley Line disorder?”

“Or maybe King Deshret’s risen again,” you comment blithely. Al-Haitham’s eyebrows shoot up at your boldness of stating such a blasphemous thing in the centre of Sumeru City, but you don’t seem bothered. “There have always been stranger things. Either way, I want to check it out.”

“I suppose so. Will Kaveh be accompanying you this time?”

“Kaveh? No. No, an architect and an artist has no place in the desert when he could be here.” You avert your gaze and you fight the stuttering in your voice. Al-Haitham bites his tongue. “Scholars from the Spantamad Darshan will be, though, considering the Ley Line aspect of the situation. It’ll be nice to spend time with my father again. He returned just recently, did you know?”

“I was made aware,” he says. He saw your father early yesterday morning, and they’d exchanged words, but you don’t need to know that Al-Haitham speaks to your father on a semi-regular basis. “Well, then, I hope your exploration is fruitful.” 

“Of course it will be. It’s me leading the expedition,” you tease, winking, and he can’t help the small smile that pulls at the corner of his mouth. Your smile softens into a fonder, more genuine one, and you take hold of his hand. In Snezhnayan, you utter: “I wanted to see you before I left.”

“I’m happy that you made that effort to,” he murmurs in the same, inclining his head. You squeeze his fingers, before letting go, and Al-Haitham’s gaze flickers from your eyes to your mouth. It’s still smiling, still warm, still those same lips that have haunted his dreams. He lets out a silent sigh and raises a hand to rest atop your head. In Sumeran again, he says, “I will await your return then, Artificer.”

“What a silly title.” A displeased expression overtakes your face but nonetheless, you clutch his bicep and duck from his hand and begin to make your way past him, trailing your fingers down his forearm. He turns to prolong the contact, his fingers tracing your veins. “Now, I don’t want to go, knowing you’re waiting for me to come back.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” he warns. They are at each other’s fingers, and he curls his digits, locking you in place for only a moment. “I might not be here when you come back.”

“Please,” you snort, but your expression betrays how happy and excited you are. “See you later, Al-Haitham.”

“I’ll be seeing you,” he agrees, and you giggle, waving one last time before turning around fully and running off to wherever you’re needed. Al-Haitham’s smile doesn’t fade as he watches you go. His heart warms whenever he’s near you, and now that you’ll be disappearing for a few months, he’s determined to keep that fire inside him burning low and bright.

He loves you. He knows that very well by now. Loves you without rival, without equal. Very few things can even think to challenge the spot you have in his life, although he is sure he does not have some sort of equivalent seat in your halls of life.

Why would he sit there when you have so many more acquaintances? Better-tempered ones, kinder ones, ones that aren’t ruled by selfish ambition, who actually have the initiative to tell you how they feel because they are not bogged down by the arguably controversial opinion that love is nothing more than an obstacle.

“Al-Haitham, the Grand Sage Azar wishes to speak with you,” an attendant says, and Al-Haitham is forced to look away from you. The scholar frowns at the request, but nonetheless, he follows the man to the House of Daena.

When he returns home from his meeting with the Grand Sage, Al-Haitham wants nothing more than to rip his brain out, strip it clean of memories. For the first time in his life, he curses knowledge, and the consequences it has inflicted on him

But a box sits waiting for him, a note attached to the top of it. By the intricate lock system on the front baring no keyhole, but a scanner that illuminates when Al-Haitham’s finger brushes against the box, he knows who it’s from.

Cyno - About Cold Cases

“The Artificer?” Cyno asks in the dying minutes of the feast in his honour. Crossing his arms over his chest, his brow furrows. “Why do you want to know about her?”

“We heard there’s a lot of mystery surrounding her, but if she’s such an important figure in the Akademiya, why didn’t she ever come back?”

“So you know she’s missing.” Cyno sighs. “I’m not sure if this is information I’m legally allowed to reveal to you as an outsider, but it’s you so I suppose I could make an exception. Her belongings were seized and her quarters were raided after her disappearance five years ago. The Eremites posted around the Teleport Waypoints are to assure that she doesn’t come to tamper with them.”

“Why? Is she a criminal?”

“No. The Sages put a stop to all of her research after it became clear she was extremely close to unlocking the full potential of the Teleport Waypoints. Whether or not it was fear that she would use that knowledge and surpass them is unclear, however she was well-liked by the public. Much of her work during her time was contribution to the public. Improving different aspects of our nation.”

“So, why… do you think the Sages had a hand in her disappearance?” the Traveler asks.

“I had my suspicions during the investigation which were only further supported once I was made the General Mahamatra and granted the ability to investigate past open cases.”

“As the General Mahamatra, you would probably know more about the circumstances surrounding the situation,” mutters Paimon. Cyno’s lips twist into a dismayed scowl.

“It was only the beginning of Azar’s need to retain power in Sumeru.” A resigned exhale. He glances around, but the place the Traveler has led him to is secluded and quiet. “I suggest you never reveal that you are searching for the Artificer to Al-Haitham. Talking about her is… a touchy subject.”

“The reason we wanted to find her is because of this box we found addressed to him.”

“A box?”

“Yeah! It must be something she hid from the matra before she disappeared.” Paimon flies around to the Traveler’s shoulder. “We wanted to ask Al-Haitham to open the box, but he’s been distracted by something else recently.”

Cyno hums, lips twisting into a frown. “From what I remember, the conclusion drawn from the investigation was that a freak snowstorm had caused her and another scholar to go missing. It went on for a month or two past their initial end date, so their resources eventually dried out, especially with being unprepared for that sort of weather. However…”

“What is it?” the Traveler asks.

“Well, why was she and a Spantamad scholar the only ones who went missing? The other members of the expedition emerged from the snowstorm cold but relatively unharmed at Caravan Ribat. Furthermore, there was a great shift in the area surrounding the Teleport Waypoint in front of the Mausoleum of King Deshret, suggesting that the Teleport Waypoint had somehow been used. I’m not quite sure of the efficacy of which it operated, but considering that there was no trace left behind, it’s possible that the snowstorm covered up the Teleport Waypoint tapping into the Ley Lines, and transporting the two scholars into some other place to escape.”

“So, in the end, she was successful in what she was trying to do,” the Traveler muses. “The Teleport Waypoints aren’t effective everywhere in Teyvat, though.”

The General Mahamatra shakes his head. “No, not to my knowledge.”

“Thanks, Cyno. This was a really big help,” the Traveler says, turning. Paimon flies in front of them, her hand scratching at her head. “I should leave you to your celebration. Sorry to bog it down with work.”

“Wait, Traveler. There’s one other thing that you should know. The investigation was preceded by an assignment issued by the Grand Sage to none other than Al-Haitham.”

.

Outside the Mausoleum of King Deshret, an expedition bustles around their camp. Scholars measure the Teleport Waypoint, use devices to take the temperature, and scribble down every observation in a small radius to ensure that the conditions are ideal.

You’ve retreated to your tent. The heat’s getting to you, and you feel exhausted as you set down your tool on your work bench, finger running down another manuscript to make sure everything is perfect.

Snezhnayan catches your ear and you turn around to see your father approaching, the tent flap closing behind him.

“You think it’ll work this time?”

“I’m sure, Papa,” you answer, lifting the core you’d been inspecting. They’ll insert this into the base of the Teleport Waypoint in a few days time once the Spantamad scholars are able to locate the source of destabilization in the Ley Lines. 

Archons willing, the core will be able to detect the Ley Lines running beneath the structure and channel energy back up into the Waypoint, and they’ll be able to go home in a blink of an eye.

There is one thing that you think separates you from the other scholars at the Akademiya, and it is not this groundbreaking technology you’ve crafted with your own hands. 

It is the higher purpose that fuels you to study. Not just for the sake of knowledge, or to find something new, something exciting.

“It’s our last chance. If we fail, the Doctor will have his way with me. I haven’t been useful enough, and he has no patience for people who waste his time. Little Star, I refuse to go back to Snezhnaya alive.”

The Fatui Harbingers. The fingers in your bones feel brittle after toiling for years and years for them to the point where you’re not sure that these hands are your own anymore. Maybe they belong to some unseen mind you don’t even know, but fear all the same.

All your work has only ever been for the Doctor, but maybe… maybe this way you and your dad can somehow find your mother and your siblings, find a secluded corner of this continent and hide from the Doctor for the rest of your days.

“Thank you,” your father murmurs, and you lower the core back into its box. Closing it, it lets out a little beep, and you drum your fingers against the top of the lid, sighing. “Little Star.”

“It’ll be fine,” you whisper, letting out a long breath. It feels like it takes the soul out of you, and you plant your hands against the table, letting your head drop. “We’ll be just fine.” 

A hand settles between your shoulders, and you let your father guide you closer towards him. His chest is warm, and when his arms embrace you, it feels like home. Turning into him fully, you wrap your arms around him and press your cheek against his chest, feeling like a small child again.

“You’ve worked so hard for my sake. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

“The fact that I’ve managed to save your life, Papa, is reason enough to do anything.” You withdraw, and smile at him. He sighs, eyes scanning your face. “The Doctor will be pleased enough by this progress, right? I… it might not be a permanent solution, but he’ll think it’s enough of a relveation that he won’t kill you?”

“Don’t think like that.”

“I can’t help it!”

He flicks your forehead, and you separate, wincing. Rubbing your brow, you send him a glare. 

“That Al-Haitham won’t want you to be so pessimistic.”

“Dad!” Heat flashes over your face, and you whirl around, busying yourself with cleaning up your work bench. Your father laughs, leaning in beside you. “Al-Haitham’s just a friend.”

“I never insinuated anything more than that,” he teases. “But I’m sure you two are closer now than ever.”

“Papa!”

“You ought to stop giving him the wrong impression, if he’s just a friend. Living with Kaveh, playing house,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s going to realize that you and that silly boy are together.”

“We are… not… together.” You could strangle your father. Returning the manuscripts to your own box, you don’t quite close it yet. You’ll still need to do one last check to make sure the winds from the desert haven’t swept anything underneath anything else. “Kaveh and I are just friends. We just like living together.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll never understand then why you don’t pursue Al-Haitham.”

“You don’t have to understand anything,” you complain, exasperated. “Al-Haitham’s not interested in that way with me, Papa. Besides, I don’t have any time to foster a romantic relationship. Save that for when we’re in the clear.”

“Who knows? Maybe he can accompany us.”

“Father!”

“Artificer! The Scribe of the Akademiya has arrived looking for you.”

“The Scribe?” you murmur, frowning. Immediately, all that teasing evaporates like smoke, and your brow furrows. Your father’s expression is identical. “What would Abbas be doing here at his age?” 

“Perhaps there’d been urgent news?”

“They would’ve sent a messenger, wouldn’t they? Or even the General Mahamatra if it’d been serious.” You sigh. “It’d be better if you weren’t in here when I receive him. It could be something bad.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod. “You can send him in.”

Your father departs, and he chats with whoever is outside, but you can’t let yourself eavesdrop. Your anxiety is biting at your frayed nerves. You haven’t slept well in days.

The day that will seal your fate comes closer and closer, and you can’t think of anything else. Your head hurts, and you grab your canteen, taking a sip and hoping it’ll help with the ache. 

What will you do if the Teleport Waypoint works? Will you leave the Akademiya entirely? The Doctor might ask you to stay, and further develop and streamline the process for whatever plan the Harbinger is creating, but with this technology, you could run. Leave it all behind.

You absently brush your finger over a stick of charcoal. You’ll have time to think about it, you suppose.

The tent flap opens, and you let out a sigh. “Scribe Abbas, I’m surprised you—“

And whatever words you had, whatever had been autopilot motoring off your tongue, die.

“Al-Haitham?” Surprise shoots through your system. Your heart skips a beat when you see him, and that uncomfortable rhythm pounds against your ribs as he smiles faintly at you. He looks the same. Always the same. “What? What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” he admits, and you can’t help the silly smile that rises to your face. “I would prefer to speak with you in Snezhnayan. I know that your mother tongue goes unused often. I don’t want to get rusty either.”

“Oh.” That heat comes again to your face in a crashing flood. “Of course,” you comply. “But I don’t understand why you came all this way just to speak with me. Couldn’t it wait? I would’ve been back in the Akademiya in a few weeks.” Your mind scrambling for more words to say, your eyebrows knit together. “Wait. Scribe. You’re the Akademiya’s new Scribe?”

He nods. “Yes. I was promoted last week.”

“That’s excellent news!” you exclaim, coming closer and grabbing him by the wrists. His eyebrows rise but you tug him towards your bedroll. Sitting, you tug him down and tuck your knees beneath you. “Tell me everything. Wait, do you need anything? Food, or water?”

He chuckles, letting his bag slide off his shoulder, and you soak him in again. His beautiful eyes, the sweep of his downy grey hair. It has always reminded you of a dove’s soft breast. Fluffy, and attached to a body that can fly anywhere it’d like.

You card your fingers through that crop of hair fondly, pulling it away from his eyes and brushing the longer bits behind his ear.

“No, I don’t need anything more than your time,” he answers, taking your hand and pulling it back down to rest between them. “I was apparently Azar’s first choice to be the new Scribe. Abbas wanted to retire.”

“He is getting old,” you admit. “But I hadn’t realized. You don’t know how happy I am to hear this, you know.”

“I think I know.” His voice makes your eyes widen. You’d never heard it like that before—so unguarded, so softly spoken. Your eyes dart to his and your chest squeezes at the way he stares at you. Had he always looked at you like that, or is that a desert mirage manifesting itself in your tent?

You smile, letting out a scoff. “You have no idea how much I care about you, Al-Haitham.”

“More than Kaveh?” he asks off-handedly, and you blink. 

“Well, that’s not fair. Kaveh’s my oldest friend.”

“I think it’s more than fair,” he says. “But, I know I’m no rival of his for your affections, so I won’t pursue you on the topic any further.” Arguments build up in your mouth but he only pushes onward: “Are you making headway with the Waypoint? I saw some of the scholars crowding around it but you’re still in here.”

“The Ley Lines have been stable as of today. I was doing some final additions to a device that would activate the Waypoint, so we are,” you say warily. “The new blueprint I drafted before I left seems to be the most promising.”

His eyes drift over to your work bench before he nods. “I see. May I go look?”

“Yes, of course.” Rising together, you’re shocked when he leads the way, their fingers still entwined. Never before have you tempted physical touch for this long. You’re always aware that he’ll be overstimulated, or uncomfortable, or even just not in the mood to be touched, but you guess he’s amiable today, because he lets you sidle in close next to him—close enough that their arms are pressed together.

A sharp tug at your heart makes you sigh. You hadn’t the time to factor him into your future yet. You’ve thought about Kaveh—what he’d do if you left. You’d tell him, of course, where you’d be going. Why. How. You’d explain everything to the blond with the sincerest apology you can front it with.

After all, Kaveh won’t be able to afford the house they live in on his own stipend if you have to leave, and you can’t just leave your truest companion out in the cold like that. 

Kaveh. Your heart aches for him. You love him so much, but it’s never been the way he wanted you to. 

Glancing at the man beside you tracing a finger along your drawings, something inside you wilts. 

“Al-Haitham… I have a favour to ask you,” you speak suddenly. He’s silent, leaning against the work bench. Their hands are still interlaced in beween them, and you look down at his fingers, long and nimble. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, and you swallow.

“You know I don’t believe in favours,” he intones, not taking his eyes off the paper.

“I know, but this is something I have to ask out of our friendship.”

“Alright.”

You let out a breath. “If something happens to me, you’ll take care of Kaveh, won’t you? Give him a home if he needs one.”

“Why should I care about him?” he mutters apathetically and you smack him. His eyes finally meet yours and you glare at him.

“Al-Haitham.”

“Besides, why would anything happen to you?” he continues. “You’re one of the smartest scholars the Akademiya has right now. If you follow their rules, it’s nearly impossible for them to expel you.”

“Well, I know that’s what the Sages think, but there’s just a lot of things that are unpredictable.”

“Like King Deshret resurrecting?” he asks, and you scowl.

“Why do you always remember the things I say?” you complain. He smirks.

“You were the one speaking blasphemy.”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter dismissively, and you let go of his hand, moving away, but he grabs your elbow before you can stray far enough. “What?”

“I was teasing. Of course I’d look out for Kaveh. He might not like that very much, though. I don’t know if you’ve realized, but like others, he can barely stand me.”

“Well, I’m not asking you to become his life partner. I just… I care about him deeply. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to him.”

“Fine. I’ll do it,” he acquiesces. “But I won’t do it happily.”

“Oh, shut up. You love to tease him.”

“That is true.”

“Oh, you said you wanted to speak with me, though, Al-Haitham,” you remember. “This can’t be all you wanted to talk about. The promotion’s great and all,” you add hastily as he turns to you fully, frowning, “but a letter would’ve sufficed.”

He doesn’t answer straight away, and you frown. He simply stands there, searches your face for answers you don’t know the questions for, and you’re shocked by the tight pain that screws up his forehead. He smells like the desert and sweat, but you don’t mind it. You’ve grown used to Al-Haitham in all sorts of states—grown used to the space he’s carved into your heart hurting from how swollen it gets in his presence.

You love him so much, too. In the way that he doesn't want you to. The irony is not lost on you, but you don’t know how on earth you’ll survive not seeing him anymore if the homeland keeps you there.

“Al-Haitham,” you whisper as his eyes dip to your mouth and linger there. Your lips tingle, and you swallow, his name trembling the second time it escapes your tongue. “Al-Haitham?”

“Hm?” he hums, gaze finding yours again and you realize that he wanted you to notice him staring. Your mouth runs dry, and he tilts his head, face tender, and sad, if you can trick yourself into believing it. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m just… I’m happy to see you. Honestly, I am.”

His eyes are an oasis. “I’m sorry,” he utters softly, and you frown.

Your heart shivers in your throat. “What for?”

You learn only a second later what it is. Soft lips press against your own and your eyes widen in shock as hands cup your jaw, holding you there for a moment longer before pulling away. A horrible blush stains Al-Haitham’s entire face, and he looks away, stepping back with shaking hands.

Your eyes fall to those fingers that had just held you so gently, watch as they roll into quivering fists, and a sharp breath leaves Al-Haitham as your own digits touch your lips.

“What?” It is all you can muster to say.

His ears are bright red as he ducks his head. “That was what I wanted to speak to you about.”

“Well, there wasn’t much speaking,” you stammer, and he looks up at your tone. 

“I apologize. I don’t… know what came over me, but the truth of it is, I came here because I wanted to confess that I’m in love with you before anything else happened between us that could ruin my chances,” he says slowly, deliberately. He clears his throat. “The kiss was… supposed to be what happened after if I had luck on my side.”

“Luck on your side?” you echo.

“If you loved me back,” he clarifies, “which I’m not sure you do.”

There is one thing that you think separates you from the other scholars at the Akademiya, and it is not that you’re the smartest Kshahrewar student they’ve had in years, or that you’re working for the Fatui against your will.

It is that Al-Haitham, against all odds, against reason and logic—the very values of which he has built himself up on—loves you. 

When you told your father you didn’t have the time for romantic relationship, it was not because of that entirely. Your father, after all, had been a scholar who fostered an entirely family on the job, and there are tons of families with members in the Akademiya. It’s hardpress to find someone who doesn’t know of someone in the Akademiya.

It was because you love someone already, and you didn’t want to get your hopes up. And it isn’t Kaveh, as much as you had wished for years and years that it would be. Maybe it would’ve saved them all some heartache.

Oh, but the heart wants what it wants, just as the brain chases what it desires.

“Al-Haitham,” you murmur in a soft breath, “would you kiss me again?”

The Scribe’s—internally, you laugh fondly at the idea that he has that sort of authority—eyes light up, and he approaches you cautiously, his hands flexing and waning. 

When his fingers slide along your jaw, this time you’re ready for it. Your eyes slide shut, your hands find the lapels of a chest you wish you were more familiar with, and when a soft mouth presses against your own waiting lips, you take your time to enjoy it.

Kaveh - Chat: Craftsmanship

Kaveh is a slim, tall man with blond hair. The Traveler doesn’t know him well, but they find him just as he’s about to enter his house whilst they’re looking for Al-Haitham, and he is polite enough to invite them in for tea when they accost him.

“Woah, we’ve never been in Al-Haitham’s house before!”

“I assumed not. We don’t have many guests over,” Kaveh says to Paimon. “Most of the interior decoration was by me.”

“I heard you were an architect.”

“Yes, I still am. The Palace of Alcazarzaray; have you ever seen my magnum opus?” At the Traveler’s nod, he smiles wryly. “I actually just returned from a project in the desert, and coming back to this whole mess in the Akademiya has been disorienting.” He places a tray of tea on the table and sinks down onto his seat. “What did you want to speak to me about?” The Traveler explains briefly, and his eyebrows rise as he raises the mug of tea to his mouth. “You know of the snowstorm? Cyno told you. I see.”

“I’m sorry if it’s a touchy subject.” 

“It’s not. It just reminds me of someone.”

“The Artificer?”

“I… yes. She left Sumeru during that storm years ago.” Kaveh sighs. “We grew up together in the same hamlet. Childhood best friends.”

“Wow! Paimon didn’t know that.”

“You said you were looking for my esteemed roommate,” he prompts dryly. 

“Well, if you know the Artificer well,” the Traveler says, “could you tell us where we could find her, too?”

“What makes you think I would know?”

“You said ‘left Sumeru’ instead of ‘missing.’”

Kaveh looks away, the light in his eyes dimming. “You’re as perceptive as Al-Haitham said you were.” He doesn’t speak for a moment, simply choosing to stare into his tea. 

“Of course I know where she is,” he utters at length. “I loved her with all I ever had. I warranted more than her leaving without a goodbye.” It’s said in a tone that does not offer an opportunity for further dialogue down this route. “Traveler, what do you want?”

“We just want to return this box to Al-Haitham,” Paimon answers as the Traveler procures it. “It was sealed within the Balladeer’s construction chamber, but it looks super important. And a part of Paimon is wondering how it even got there in the first place if she’s gone supposedly missing all these years. If it belongs to her, maybe she could help us. We heard she was studying the Teleport Waypoints and that they’re some sort of… out-of-realm kind of technology? Paimon’s still a bit fuzzy on the details…”

But Kaveh had stopped listening roughly two sentences ago. His gaze fixes on the box in the Traveler’s lap. “It’s hers, you’re sure? You… have her seal?” With an assenting nod, he takes the box gingerly, running his hand over the craftsmanship reverently, and the Traveler averts their gaze in respect. Kaveh’s fingers trace the edge, and he sighs softly, rubbing his temple with the same hand. “She isn’t missing. She returned home to Snezhnaya,” Kaveh answers at length after a hard internal fight, letting his hand drop. The Traveler can see it in the way this great architect clutches onto the box until his knuckles pale, and his breath comes shaking. “There, she worked under who I believe is the Fatui Harbinger, Dottore.”

“The Doctor?” Paimon whispers, horrified. “She was a Fatuus?”

“No, she wouldn’t. Despite those horrid people giving the rest of Snezhnaya a bad name, she was the best person I knew.” Kaveh’s voice softens wistfully. “Her mind far surpassed many of those who call themselves scholars now, but I don’t think any of us realized that she was being blackmailed by the Fatui behind the scenes.”

“That’s awful…” the Traveler murmurs, fists clenched tight in their lap. Kaveh sets the box down tenderly, and he raises his eyes warily to the blonde before him. “So she’s dead? Did the Fatui kill her?”

“No. No, they wouldn’t kill an asset.” At this, the colour drains from Kaveh’s face. “From what I understand… she gave her body to the Doctor’s definition of science in exchange for her father’s life. I only saw her twice since the snowstorm. Once, when she returned to Sumeru City after she departed for her homeland, and once again two years ago, and she was more machine than human.” Guilt, and a heavy tinge of regret seeping into his voice and face. “In other words, I have no idea if she’s still alive.”

“How is that possible? That she could survive all that human testing and not go mad,” the Traveler murmurs, setting down their mug. Their stomach turns over at the scenarios running through their head. “Thank you, Kaveh. Maybe I should leave the box with you, considering Al-Haitham will return, one way or another.”

“I’ll look after it,” he promises. Together, the two rise, and Paimon flies towards the box, inspecting it one last time as if it’ll hold clues they’ve missed. 

The Traveler sighs, and picks up their backpack. “We’ll be off, then. Al-Haitham still has questions we need answered.”

“Questions about…?”

“Well, Cyno told us of an assignment that Al-Haitham was given that sent him into the desert according to his report afterwards, but never about what exactly happened,” Paimon informs. Kaveh stiffens, his jaw clenching and a terrible scowl crosses his face. Flying back to the Traveler, the companion continues, “If Al-Haitham can give us answers about what exactly happened—”

“The Artificer bears a Cryo Vision,” Kaveh interrupts coldly. “And do you know, Traveler, what the Tsartisa used to embody before she was consumed with the vengeance that rules her hand? Her nation?”

The Traveler pauses mid-step, lightning shooting down their leg and freezing them to the ground. The icy anger that overtakes Kaveh’s body, seizes his entire body into a husk of hollow fury plated by brittle wrath, makes the Traveler swallow, arms tensing. The architect has tilted his head away, blond hair curtaining the darkening expression consuming his face. It makes him monstrous, unrecognizable from the amiable man that had been in his spot only seconds before.

For a moment, the Traveler is unsure if they should be the one to speak—to answer a question they’re hesitant to answer. The air cracks but Kaveh saves them from the terrible decision only moments later after a harsh breath, and a soft, bitter laugh. It sits in the Traveler’s throat like sour melon seeds.

“I know Al-Haitham believes that I dislike him because of differences in beliefs, menial things like personality clashes,” he whispers scathingly with an age-old contempt, “but the truth of the matter is, he is the reason my best friend has disappeared, and I won’t ever forgive him for it, no matter how many favours he grants me. I know he doesn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart—it’s because she asked him, and he thinks this is even close to honouring her.”

“Kaveh…” Paimon floats forward, but the Traveler grabs her hand, holding her back. The floating companion looks back at them, but they shake their head.

“Most people see Al-Haitham as someone who’s callous, coldhearted, and dishonest, but I’ve seen him grieve her more plainly than anyone else. He mourns her even now, carries that guilt like a thousand weights without a single complaint. And it infuriates me,” he grits out softly, fists clenched by his sides. He tilts his head back, and inhales shakily. A sharp amber gaze meets the Traveler’s, and Kaveh lets out a short, horrible laugh. “I’m guilty of actually… caring about him despite what he’s done. It’s why I told him a few days ago that she sent me a note that she’d be leaving Port Ormos by the end of the week.”

The Traveler understands, and without another word, they race out the door.

.

The day before they’re supposed to complete their first trial on the Teleport Waypoint had been a lazy one—consisting of well-placed naps on your part so you could be prepared for the long day ahead of you tomorrow. Al-Haitham had been your steady companion through it all, letting you show him around camp and describing your work just in case he wants to report back to the Sages. 

“They’re not concerned, are they?” you had asked, and he had shook your head. Your father also wanted to speak to Al-Haitham, and you had surrendered your partner for anyone else looking for your attention. Penultimate observations of variables were taken. Meals, prayers, and stories were exchanged.

Al-Haitham kissed his name into your neck, your cheek, your lips throughout the day, waking you up from your naps and corralling you to your next one with punctuality only expected of him. You can still feel him even as you bid him farewell that night. 

He frowns, brushing the back of his fingers down your cheek, before taking hold of your jaw and tilting your head towards his lips. It’s a brief kiss, but familiar, and you can’t help but smile into it.

“I’ll see you when I come back?” you murmur against his mouth, and he nods, eyes dark and downcast. He’s not happy about leaving just like you, but there’s something stronger in his stare, the downturn of his mouth that’s occupied him when he thinks you won’t noticed. It feels almost like regret. Pulling back, you take hold of his hand. “Alright, Scribe, lighten up. I’ll be home soon, and we can talk about all of this.” You squeeze his fingers. “I promise.”

“We… we will need to talk,” he insists, and your brow furrows. He brings your hand to his lips with both of his own, and reverently presses a soft kiss to the heel of your palm. “I’m sorry.”

You curl your fingers over his hands and push them down, shaking your head. His somber attitude in the wake of what could be the happiest moment of your life is ruining your mood with a growing bud of worry, but you can’t let him know that. So you paste a smile on your face and simply squeeze him. “Don’t be sorry. Just go.”

His eyes linger, but you only shake your head minutely and he lets out a long exhale, his shoulders falling. That lost little frown still possesses his mouth, and there’s a permanent wrinkle in his brow that must’ve been there for the past few hours. 

He woke up before you, and you’d found him outside sitting by the fire on his own. It’d been a strange scene, and he looked lost in his melancholy—book all but forgotten in his lap, his eyes staring sightlessly into the fire. The sun had barely risen, but now you’re starting to wonder if he slept at all if the puffiness of his eye bags and the lethargy that he’s been trying to hide all day is anything to go by.

A part of you is nervous that it’s because he didn’t want to sleep next to you and had to seek refuge, but you rationalize that when you had called his name, he had returned to you without argument and a kiss to your crown.

The troubled gaze still lingers now, even with the dusk approaching. He had said it’s best if he sets off now so he can get back to the Akademiya and make use of the cooler temperatures. He’ll spend most of this week travelling, and you know he’d rather not miss the beginning of another work week. However, you can’t help but let the thought that there’s more than travelling at night in the desert that bothers him.

You wanted this farewell to be sweet and temporary.

Except now, it feels more and more permanent, and the sweetness of it has suffered for it.

“Al-Haitham, don’t go doing anything irrational or stupid or… unthought of in these last few weeks,” you mutter, and his head raises just as you slither your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. His bag nudges against your side, just another reminder that he’s leaving, before he’s pulling back again, and his hands on your back rub up and down. You sigh and kiss him quickly.

His eyes flutter shut, and he presses his forehead against your own before whispering softly, “I’ll do my best.”

With that, he pulls away, and you grab hold of his hand. Together, they walk out of the tent, and you observe the activities occurring around camp. Most of the scholars are talking and bonding around the fire. Your father’s feeding the Sumpter Beasts, but he’s speaking to another Spantamad scholar you think he’s been taking to as a mentor figure. Rafiq, you remember his name as.

Humming thoughtfully, you let go of Al-Haitham’s hand as Rafiq looks over and you smile. He nods to you, and you note his eyes darting over to your companion, but he doesn’t appear to be watching as they approach.

“Father, Rafiq,” you greet politely. “The Scribe will be leaving our encampment, now.”

“Already? You won’t stay another day?” your father complains, and Al-Haitham has at least the decency to look sheepish as Rafiq quickly finds the Sumpter Beast the Scribe had ridden from Caravan Ribat, saddling the animal quickly as he can despite the low groaning protests.

“Unfortunately, the Akademiya calls,” he answers dryly. “The Scribe has no shortage of work.” Your father frowns, and glances at you, but you shrug. “I hope all goes well tomorrow. With luck, I’ll see you by the end of next week.”

“We’ll have to catch up, one-on-one,” your father says, leaning over nefariously and obviously eyeing you. You cross your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes as Rafiq returns, rope lead in his hand. You take it, giving the Sumpter Beast a quick pat on hard ridge. It lifts its head into your palm in response, and Rafiq crouches down to feed it an apple. 

“The Sumpter Beast is ready, Scribe,” Rafiq says, rising, and this time when they meet eyes, your eyebrows twitch together at the way Rafiq gulps and glances at you. He must be intimidated. You smile reassuringly as Al-Haitham clips his pack onto the saddle and takes the lead from you. Fingers brushing, you fight the heat rising to your face and the way your smile grows in pleasure.

“Goodbye,” he whispers, and you tilt your head at him. 

“I’ll see you,” you answer. He nods before clasping hands with your father in a firm shake. You can’t help but roll your eyes again but they let go soon enough before Al-Haitham swiftly presses a final kiss to your mouth. You blink, eyes widening, but before you can even question it, he turns to mount the Sumpter Beast with a soft grunt and picking up the reins and flashes you one final (sad) smile. 

You return to your tent, your bedroll feeling suspiciously more empty now that he’s gone. Sighing, you tuck yourself in for a sleep as restful as you can make it and wake up too soon by the hands of the last watch who was instructed to as soon as signs of the sun rising were visible.

You get up and prepare yourself, although the apprehensive feeling in you does not do anything but swell. Walking to your work bench, you go to the box containing all your documents and let it scan once you place your palm atop of it, your Akasha terminal connecting to the device within. With a soft beep, it unlocks.

You’d given one similar to this prototype to Al-Haitham before you left. You smile and wonder if he’s opened it yet. It’s a bit different than yours, only requiring a fingerprint and a connection to his Akasha Terminal rather than a full scan, but you muse if that’s what had prompted him to come here after all this time. Maybe he finally realized the depth of his feelings with such a hard-earned gift.

Presently, you open the box and reach inside. Your smile dissipates as soon as you do. Nothing touches your fingertips except for the bottom of the box, and you lift the lid fully. Empty.

Huh. Maybe your father (the only other person with clearance) had already retrieved the needed documents while you slept. You wouldn’t put it past him to give you just a few more moments of rest. Sighing, you instead pick up the second box which contains the core. Strange he didn’t take this with him, but you dismiss the thought. 

You’re entirely too protective over the device. Besides, this is your moment of crowning glory.

You leave your tent to a frenzy. The sky is not quite clear—a few clouds spot the sky. Your father’s one of the first awake, too, and he’s running a hand through his hair as he takes the temperature of the air and writes it down. Another Spantamad scholar is measuring Ley Line energy through a device puncturing the ground, their Dendro vision winking in the growing light. Placing the box on one of the tables set up near the Waypoint, you sweep your gaze around the site.

You mainly search for the Kshahrewar scholars. As you walk around to make sure everything is going smoothly and if anyone has any questions on the way, you frown when you realize that none of the scholars from your Darshan are present. Approaching your father, you ask him quickly if he’s seen them.

“They’re awake,” he answers distractedly. “Some of them had gotten breakfast. Perhaps they’re still going over their notes.”

“I suppose,” you say doubtfully. They need the entire day to workshop this as effectively as possible and monitor any fluctuations. The entire operation is running late. It’s the only thought that’s ruling your brain as you glance around.

Still, no one. Perhaps you should check on them in their tents, just to make sure…

Before you can move: “Artificer!”

Turning, you spot a Kshahrewar scholar running towards you. Her brown eyes are wide, and she looks frightened to death as she runs her hands over her braid, tugging a bit hard to be a nervous habit.

“What’s the delay?” you ask irritably. The sun’s burning orange sky stains your corneas even when you close your eyes, and you squint against the rays as Amina skids to a stop before you, her face shining with sweat.

“All our manuscripts, the blueprints for the modifications of the Teleport Waypoint…” she trails off and dread begins to grow like a virus at her expression. The Spantamad scholars nearby pause in their work to watch, and behind, you see the other scholars of your Darshan running up. You are rended to the bone at each of their expressions. “It’s all gone! All our work, our notes, even the most personal things like our diaries have been stolen!”

“What?” your father shouts, storming over. Immediately, your heart drops and a chisel digs into your skull and cracks it in two. Your world goes dark as he continues to interrogate the young scholar, but a buzzing begins to whine in your ears as you stare at Amina who is frantically trying to explain herself. Your focus leaves, and your mind swirls as a flash of green later, your father has seized the poor young woman by the arms and shakes her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

He swears loudly in Snezhnayan. You cannot move. Letting go of the scholar, he turns to look at you, and all the colour has drained from his lips. His eyes are wide, his breathing sharp and rapid against your face. Suddenly all you can see is your father’s eyes—they fill your whole world with their colour, their shrinking, frantic pupils. “Little Star?“

But you can’t speak, because, for some reason, that horrible gut feeling that’s been bothering you since you woke up and found Al-Haitham outside yesterday morning, that tingling sensation that something is wrong, the nagging in your heart… it all returns in full force. Your heart wrenches into a rotten twisted ache and you want to fall to your knees, let the hurt of the stone against your bones distract you from everything else.

And it is not the thought that your father is going to die that first swarms your brain. Not even the second. No, that comes third. 

The first thought is that your father isn’t the one who extracted your papers from your box.

The second is that wish you weren’t smart. Not that you had never joined the Akademiya, no. You wish your brain didn’t work as fast as it does. You wish you didn’t see the whole picture, that you never knew which edges of the puzzle piece aligned perfectly and what slightest adjustment could be made for something to work like a well-oiled cog and handle. You wish you had no intuition, no fine-attuned sense. 

No memory, no heart, no brain. 

No emotions, no human fallibility. 

Humans make mistakes. They’re emotional creatures. You’ve always embraced that that is what makes life very much worth living, but that you has died in a matter of moments. You look out at the desert where, less than twelve hours ago, Al-Haitham disappeared beyond the dunes.

You had left the box open. After he had kissed you, you had spent the rest of the night on your bedroll, just dozing and speaking and rambling about all sorts of things, completely unaware. Unthreatened. It was not even a thought in your head in the heat of his arms. After all, how can someone you ask such stupid (unfailingly human) questions be untrustworthy? How could he ever hurt you? 

“When did you start liking me? Did you know how much I liked you? Yes… Kaveh does have feelings for me, but he understands I could never… I promise. Oh, you thought my feelings were my obvious? As if!”

“Rafiq has disappeared, too. I can only assume that he’s the one who took them. We haven’t seen him since sunrise, but we thought he was just exploring below the bridge,” are the first words that pierce through the dim, blurry fog that has surrounded your brain and sedated you to the point of debatable mental presence.

You blink, and look up. Your father is staring at the scholar who had spoken. A Spantamad scholar who only stares back at his leader with sympathy. All the others have gathered around them, but your movement catches everyone’s eyes. When you lift your head higher to take in those waiting eyes, you cannot help but feel numb.

“We weren’t stolen from,” you finally say at length. Your father returns to your side, his hand clutching onto your elbow, and you meet his eyes dully. “The Akademiya has confiscated all our research. They’re sending a message, loud and clear.”

He understands immediately, and you silently curse him. The hatred is sudden, pitiful, and undeserved, but you can’t help it. Where else could you have gotten your mind from? “No… no… he wouldn’t. He couldn’t do such a thing to… to you, of all people…”

A terrible, overwhelming sensation swarms your body like locusts. Your blood burns with the fury of a thousand suns, and you stand beside this Waypoint outside the buried resting site of a dead god, unable to do anything. Clouds that have gathered above you begin to darken.

Your mind rends at the memories from that night that seems like a lightyear away now. The way he had brushed your arm, the deliberate trailing of his fingers down your shoulder. He had kissed you, touched you, listened to you speak all the while knowing what he was here to do. 

It wasn’t to see you at all. Was it all… 

Was it all some ploy he had to make you a fool? A lovesick, blind fool whose heart is hanging on strings, tugging at every which way Al-Haitham wants it to. He doesn’t know what you’ve sacrificed to make sure that these Teleport Waypoints would work all the way from Snezhnaya to here. How much blood and flesh and sweat and time you’ve given up for the sake of family.

All that drive. All that ambition. All that desire.

Gone, like sand grain in the wind. Never again will you see that speck of nothing

Al-Haitham has made you a failure, and that is one thing you cannot… You cannot stand.

“What happens now, Artificer?” a meek voice asks. You don’t answer immediately and instead push through the crowd and you cannot look away from the dune your lover has disappeared behind. Lover. How stupid of you to think that word could suit your tongue. “If all of our research has been confiscated, I… we can’t just give up, can we?”

“Now?” you echo numbly. The clouds above you begin to swirl into a storm, and you cannot help the incredulous scoff, the noxious feeling of that smile curving your mouth. It’s bitter, and it makes you want to retch your rations onto the dirt as a crack of thunder sounds in the distance.  “Now, I think my father and I must return to our homeland and answer for our failure. The possibility we return is nigh zero.”

“Homeland? But… the rest of us—“

“The rest of you will return safely back to the Akademiya.” A gust of wind sweeps over you, and your eyes burn before it can touch your face. A shuddering exhale leaves your lungs in a death rattle sort of way, and it must mean something. That your heart has withered away and is nothing more in your carcass chest. That in this silence, Al-Haitham has declared you dead to a world he wants to create for himself.

“The rest of you should leave,” you breathe out, shoulders falling. The winds grow stronger as you let your head hang, blink and let the tears fall to the dusty tile beneath your boots. “The expedition is over. You won’t be paid much, so you should do your best to collect your wage before any sort of fees rack up for this expedition.”

“Artificer, there’s a storm—”

“Prepare to leave. You won’t have enough time if you dally around me any longer,” you intone listlessly, watching as the gales pick up the sand around your feet, swirl against your pants, rip at your clothing, and you squeeze your eyes shut, more burning tears streaking down your nose, into your grimacing mouth as you try to hold in the sob that clutches your heart. 

You want to pull your hair out, to scream, to do anything more than just stand here and watch as the work that carries your father’s life is carried farther and farther away.

Then again, Al-Haitham could’ve burnt all your manuscripts. Sunken them into an oasis never to be found again. 

Desecrated your work with something as simple as a flick of his wrist. 

Destroyed your entire life without a care as to what it would mean for you.

Were all those years meaningless to you? You wanted to know. Was your betrayal a price I had to pay for you to ever consider loving me? Or do you not consider this a betrayal at all, but just a trade between two scholars vying for the validation of the ones above us?

Blinding pale blue lighting cracks, and the thunder that follows is deafening as a column of light shoots through the dark storm that gathers over Sumeru’s desert as it did thousands of years ago. Sudden and loud, it sends the scholars scurrying. Your father stumbles back, calling orders in your stead, and you cannot speak. 

Clutching onto the front of your scholar uniform, you pull so hard you feel the threads stretch against your back, and your breath comes short and sharp, lodging into your intercostal spaces. 

Tears stream down your face and your mouth is dry, full of cotton, as you pant for air, bending over and stepping back, trying to find your footing on even ground. Heat blustering all over your face, your heart pounds in your ears and your hearing leaves you the moment you look up, trying to peer through the sandstorm and your tears. Blinking, you let out a low hiccuping sob of pain but even that is cut short by the knife that sinks into your heart.

Fingers splayed across your chest rip the buttons from the seams, tear your uniform apart in an effort to make space for your lungs to move. Running your palms over your face, you let out a raspy shout and clutch onto your scalp, trying to just breathe. The winds buffet against your head, the temperature in the desert sinking lower and lower as the rising sun is swallowed by the storm. 

How you wish you could rip your own brain out by the stem. Give up your body in the name of science, and rid yourself of this infernal contraption they call a heart. What have you done?

Voices inside your head scream louder than anything else: No! No, no, no! This can’t happen to me!

And that is when the third thought blasts into your chest like a gunshot. It leaves a wider hole than it entered through, and the shrapnel lodged in your body poisons everything. Out of every human emotion, it is guilt that tastes the most foul.

Howling squalls scream back at you as your entire world is consumed by this storm that turns white and grey. Flashes of pale blue lighting flicker at the corner of your eye, and you spin around, the shadow of a man making you crumple to your knees. He stands there for a moment, before he is blown away, and your squeeze your eyes shut, baring your teeth in a restrained sob. 

None of it is real.

None of it was ever real.

“Al-Haitham!” you scream in vicious Snezhnayan above the crackling thunder. Your throat tastes like iron. “I will never forgive you!”

You let out a screech that comes from the pits of your soul and it only dies into a loud, unhinged wailing cry that you cannot restrain any longer. Your bones chatter from the sudden onslaught of snow and brutal, slicing winds, but your fingers have numbed to any sort of sensation as you claw at your chest, your throat, pull them into tight fists that cannot do any more. Cannot tinker anymore—invent anymore.

Useless.

How could your father ever think that he was useless when you sit here, unable to do anything to save him?

A flash of lightning blinds you before the entire world pauses. The winds fade into a dull roar, the blazes of the storm cease into muted foggy glimpses of lighting, and the thunder rumbles like a heartbeat. Raising your head, you feel a soft breeze caress your tear-stained cheeks, and in the distance, you hear people screaming. People begging for help.

The world hasn’t stopped for them. Why has it for you? Are you dead? Do you… have the past few minutes been wiped into your mind? Looking up, the black clouds part and you see a moon that should not be visible at this time of day. Snow falls delicately and a pillar of lunar light shoots down through the hole, illuminating each snowflake that fall so slowly, so unhurried in their descent to the earth. 

You raise a hand to the moon peeking through, hoping for some sort of benevolence from the gods, but when you only serve to cover it from your sight, the edges of the round orb spilling between your fingers, you know it’s a stupid endeavour.

This moon is not the tender one it is in Sumeru. It is cold, and judgemental, and silent, and as the storm begins to swell around you once more, you bow your head to the Tsaritsa’s brutal judgement, letting your hand fall. You take hold of it with your other hand, cradling your palms to your chest when something hard meets your fingers. Jerking your head back, you stare blankly at the item that has appeared.

A Cryo Vision rests in the centre of your hands. 

You curl your fingers over it, feeling the newfound power of the element stream through your system. It sings with unbridled fury, as if the Tsartisa herself has wielded your betrayal, crafted it into a sword of permafrost that burns your hands, and you let out a soft breath.

To your surprise, it mists in the quiet, snowy air, and you let out a terrible sob, keeling over this Vision that means that something inside you has broken hard enough that it is worthy of being noticed by the husk of the Goddess of Love. 

That this… this is enough to be seen as other-worldly. As a kin.

A rattling scream echoes across the dunes, empties from your lungs into the remains of a lost civilization. The storm ignites, sending a rippling shockwave through the dunes. The buffeting winds crash into the stone. The snow begins to fall in earnest, and it mounts around you, covering the ruins you’ve studied so intimately. 

Ice spreads in thin spiderwebs from underneath you, crawling over the stone at a lecherously slow pace, and your heart rends. 

Hollows. 

Wilts like a dying flower. 

Crumbles to nothing. 

Disappears in the howling gales of a snowstorm, and for a long time, no one comes to you. 

No one will come.

No one can save you from your fate.

And so the storm rages on, and it will rage on until you feel nothing at all.

Al-Haitham - About Al-Haitham: Love

The only reason he knows you’re in Sumeru is because of Kaveh. The only reason he finds you is because of Kaveh. 

Al-Haitham curses that. Hates it more than anything that he’s in debt to a man who would’ve treated you far better than he did. Kaveh would’ve never betrayed you for the Akademiya. For all the romanticism and idealism Al-Haitham can’t stand, perhaps those are the things that would’ve saved you from ever leaving the safety of the city.

When he first sees you after five years, you are standing on the dock, speaking to the Snezhnayan engineers that must’ve been behind the Balladeer’s chambers and helping them load their ships with their supplies and technology that they must’ve scavenged to bring back to their country. He’s not sure if they’re all Fatui—not sure if you’re one of them, too—but you speak so quietly he cannot hear. They must not be, considering they aren’t arrested by the Dendro Archon’s command nor did they flee with the Doctor.

You’re clad head to toe in Snezhnayan colours, not a drop of green on you, and there’s something new on the harness that crosses in an x at your back when you turn around. It is pinned there, glinting pale blue in the sunlight.

A Vision.

He had never known you to have one. You’re also… bulkier in a way. More muscular, taller. Your hair is cut differently, too, and when you move to lift something that seems much too heavy, you do it with remarkable ease. But it’s you.

He hasn’t dreamed in a long time, but when Al-Haitham dreamed for the first time after the Akademiya coup, he dreamed of you.

“I will be there when you dock,” you say loud enough that Al-Haitham can hear from where he hides at the mouth of the entrance to Wikala Funduq. “The Teleport Waypoint isn’t far from the harbour, and I’ll be able to sort out travelling arrangements before you all arrive. It’s short-notice, so I can’t guarantee the best, but I’ll try my hardest.” 

Peering around, he notes you surrounded by the engineers, but they begin to dissipate a moment later. Some leave the pier, while others board the boats, and you remain there, turning around to look out at the sea, hands planted on your hips.

Al-Haitham seizes his chance.

He walks out of Wikala Funduq, and as soon as his boots touch wood, you turn around.

The most peculiar shade of purple bewitches Al-Haitham. It’s a colour he is certain he’s never seen before, but an itchy part of his brain tags it as something he should be familiar with. A purple he should attribute to something else, something beautiful.

Your lips part, and a soft near-silent sigh escapes you as an entirely concoction of emotions racks through your face. Your eyes are not your own, yet they’re set in your face, and they widen like your eyes used to at the sight of him.

So it must be you. “(Name).”

You stiffen, arms falling limp at your sides, yet he cannot do anything but let out the breath he can’t recall ever holding and forgoing any sort of decorum, any sort of remembrance of who he is in the standing of the Akademiya. He is not the lone wolf scholar, the Akademiya’s Scribe, the Acting Grand Sage.

He is just a boy who is in love with you even now, even still, and his face crumbles into pure relief as he walks towards you in a daze, his feet dragging along the pier. You stare at him warily, and there are Snezhnayan workers who watch. Some even reach for a weapon, but at your barely raised hand, they fall silent.

“Al-Haitham,” you say, measured, soft, shaking, still your voice. You’re trembling in front of him. He is falling apart at the seams. When he nears, he can finally take in your finer details: the unnatural purple of your eyes, the mechanical optical rings of your irises, the way your pupils dilate  and shrink unnaturally as if sizing him up, inspecting him. “How did you know?”

“Kaveh told me,” he answers, and a sharp twinge of pain and betrayal flashes through your eyes before you blink, turning your head away. He’s surprised you haven’t frozen him to death yet, and he tests his luck further by reaching to touch your arm, but you only jerk back with a heavy step.

“How much did he tell you?” you ask roughly, eyes flitting from his fingers to his hand. 

“Nothing. Only that you’re here. That… you were leaving.”

“Did he tell you how he doesn’t even recognize me anymore?”

That silences him for a beat. “No.”

“I see. Well, I suppose you have questions?”

“Aren’t you upset with me?”

“If you’re asking if I’ve forgiven you,” you say, “then no. I haven’t. I won’t ever forgive you.”

“I’m sorry.” This time, when he says it, you understand. You didn’t five years ago, how he kept apologizing. You look away.

“Perhaps we should find somewhere more private,” you suggest quietly. “I don’t have any interest in entertaining your apologies. It’s in the past and we’re both… different people now, so I’ll answer your questions, and then we can see what happens next.”

“Fine.”

“I have a place nearby that we could talk.”

You begin to stride past him, but Al-Haitham, never one in the last five years to have the last word, feels himself act before he can think. “(Name), wait—“

When his fingers stretch to touch your hand, he feels a hard surface where you should be flesh, and your wrist twists unnaturally to free itself from his grasp. His blood runs cold at the way your hand rotates itself back to a more anatomically correct position, and you clutch it with your other gloved hand. 

“Don’t touch me,” you snap. “Just follow me.”

He nods, burning, but he’s not sure with frustration or guilt.

You lead him to a hotel room that’s hidden but overlooking the pier. It’s a small place, but quaint and barely furnished. Picked dry mostly, except for a backpack resting slouched against the wall and some other knick knacks—a pen, a notebook you close as you walk past it.

You pull a chair at the table by the window out and sit down. Al-Haitham can see the water from the glass, and as he approaches, you lean on the table by your elbows and gesture with your hand to the chair across from you. He seats himself, and glances around the place.

“The last five years. Where have you been?” he begins.

“Snezhnaya. When you left, the one thing you didn’t take was the core of the Teleport Waypoint I created. My father and I used it and managed to successfully teleport home.”

“This whole time you were there?”

“Not exactly. I roamed the world for a while. I went to Mondstadt and Fontaine, but that was only a year or two ago.” You look down at your hands. “When we returned, the Doctor had been furious that I lost my research, but he blamed it on my father. He was… technically my supervisor.” As if realizing something: “Though, I don’t suppose you know all of that. With the Fatui blackmailing me, and… and everything.”

“I had gathered as much only recently,” he answers. “I went to the Balladeer’s chambers after he was defeated. I thought I could recognize your work, but… I was unsure.” Swallowing, he shifted uncomfortably. “All these years, I thought you had died in that snowstorm and that it was my fault.”

“Some would say I’ve had a fate worse than death,” you remark, acerbic and unsurprised. “If you had known, do you think you would’ve done what you did?”

“I think I would’ve been more aware of the consequence.” He shakes his head. “I would’ve been honest, even. When I received the assignment, I thought the worse. Betraying you was an impossible task, but they assured me you wouldn’t be punished, so I followed through with it with utmost secrecy. I thought you’d just come back to the Akademiya, and we’d have a huge fight, and somehow I could convince the Sages to allow you access back to your own work as long as there were restrictions placed.”

“Restrictions? None of my work was ever illegal, though.” Your eyebrows furrow, and Al-Haitham thought you were angry, but you only look at him in a strange, morbid curiosity. You’re only searching for honesty. “Unless…”

“They suspected your father’s loyalties had been swayed. The objective of the assignment was to take your materials away, bring you and your father back, and put you on trial. You would’ve been innocent, but your father…”

“He never did anything wrong.”

“I know that,” he replies coolly, “but Azar saw your father as a threat. Saw you as a threat. You were a public figure with a strong will of your own, inherited from your father. I doubt he could’ve put you under his control. Honestly, if you’d been here, do you think that entire situation with the samsara would’ve gone on as long as it did?”

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I don’t know much about anything anymore, I think.”

For some reason, and Al-Haitham has weathered many storms before, during, and after their friendship, this is what makes his heart shrivel.

“What do you know?” he asks softly. You peek up at him from underneath your eyelashes, and a tired face stares back at him. 

“I know that I loved you,” you reply. “I don’t know if I still do. Looking at you now makes me feel something, but it’s not a good thing.”

“Do you hate me?” 

“I don’t know. It’s over now. I hated you for a bit,” you allow, “but to be honest, I’m just exhausted. This whole ordeal. The Doctor. I finally have the chance to leave his service. I could, but I have obligations to other people. To be honest, I have a half-baked plan, but I’m not sure if it’ll work.”

“Are you returning home to Snezhnaya?” he asks, afraid to even put himself in this position of wanting something from you again, and you frown. 

“Kaveh insists I stay here to be safe,” you tell him. “He misses me. I miss him. Travelling Teyvat, all I could think about is how much he would appreciate the different types of architecture around the world.” You shrug. “But… he doesn’t really recognize me as a person. It’ll take some time for him to get used to the fact that I’m more machine than human.”

“You’re still you,” he assures immediately and you arch an eyebrow. 

“How do you know?”

“Because you haven’t killed me yet when I deserve punishment for what I did to you so you must have a heart,” Al-Haitham answers steadily. “And I know you could strike me down if you wanted to. Don’t lie to me.”

“Al-Haitham…” Your mouth moves but you don’t speak, and he nods, understanding.

“My opinion shouldn’t matter, but I would like you to stay.” He cringes at even recommending it. “I know I have no right to ask this favour of you.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “I thought you didn’t believe in favours.”

“I don’t.”

They sit in silence. You draw your hands towards you on the table. He steeples his fingers and looks out at the port to give himself something to do. The quiet isn’t amiable, but not openly hostile. Al-Haitham never thought he would be able to do this again. To sit across from you had been a long forgotten wish, and he doesn’t want to ruin it now, so he waits for you to start again.

“Did you ever open the box I gave you before I left?” you ask after a while. You’ve been tracing the woodgrain with your finger, and Al-Haitham has been watching you do it. You lift your hand back up and rest your chin in your palm to look out the window.

“I did.” A hard swallow. “How did you find such a collection of journal entries? They must’ve been rare.”

“Ruin diving and desert exploration,” you explain briefly. “At the time, you said you were interested in that catastrophe the oldest historical biographies mentioned, and when I had come across one of the journals detailing first hand experiences of a scholar during that time, I had to find out if there was more I could find and translate. Those six entries were all I could find at the time being.”

“There were more in the House of Daena’s collection. The entire anthology was called A Thousand Nights. A lot has been lost to time, so the rarity of these journals is high,” he says, and at last, you give into a faint smile although you still don’t look at him.

“You found more?”

“Yes, although the ones you gave me are stored safely in the box.”

“Not turning in precious material to the Akademiya? How rebellious, Al-Haitham,” you intone. You finally tilt your head towards him, and your smile has his heart racing. “Al-Haitham, you know of my feelings for you. What about yours?”

“Are you asking if they’ve changed?”

You nod. 

“Why does that matter?”

“I don’t know. Because I doubted it for a very long time. I thought that someone who loved me wouldn’t dare to do the things you did to me, but that’s an idealistic of the world I don’t have anymore. I don’t exactly trust you right now,” you tack on quickly, “but right now is honesty hour, isn’t it?”

“Seems like it.” He thinks on it for a moment. He could very well lie. It’d probably the easier choice for you to not possibly feel obligated in some way to his feelings. You wouldn’t have the burden of knowing that his love is unfaithful, nor would the chance to tempt it be there. 

And you’d believe whatever he says. Whether or not you know it’s the truth, you’d probably force yourself to believe it and he would, too, and they could leave all of this… them, their past, their present, and their potential future, too, in the sand.

Honesty hour. 

Is that what you called it?

“I did love you,” he admits when his moment is up. “I grieved you for a long time. I knew it was my fault that you had died and debated if my cushy job was worth surrendering the one person who could actually stand me and, against all odds, loved me for who I was. Those hours in your camp before I stole the documents made me feel the most helpless I’ve ever felt in my life and I hated it.”

“And now?”

“Now?” He ponders over this. “As soon as Kaveh told me you were here, I ran just to see you myself because I couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to see you when I had the chance. I… you’re not the same. I understand that. I understand my part to play in this, and I know that what I feel should not influence your decisions. I ask that you don’t consider them at all.”

“Al-Haitham…”

“I do love you. I’ve loved you for years, but it feels… longer than that somehow. Maybe I don’t make sense, but even when I couldn’t dream, I could still see you in my sleep.” Your stricken face makes him blink, and he fights the burning in his face and ears by looking down. The tightness in his sternum only aches more. “I don’t want your forgiveness, but I do love you.”

You are quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. Then, unexpectedly, you say, “There’s a box”—and he jerks his head up, confused “—that I hid in the Balladeer’s chambers. I’m not sure if it’s completely destroyed by now, but only you and I have clearance for it.”

“What’s inside?”

“All the things that reminded me of you in the past five years. Things I wrote about you. Blueprints for your hearing aids. Collectibles I thought you’d like. I don’t know. Just a bit of everything, honestly.” His eyes widen. You don’t seem to notice, or you don’t let it deter you. “When I told you that I wasn’t sure if I loved you still, it’s because I’m trying not to love you. It’s very easy to convince myself I don’t when I never see you. But I see you and I feel disgusted.” 

You chuckle a bit, almost nervous. Al-Haitham isn’t quite sure of what to say. Grasping at straws, he opens his mouth to speak but you shake your head.

“To be honest, I never gave myself a chance to let my love for you die,” you whisper. “The disgust comes from remembering what you did, but it’s so overwhelmed by everything else. The longer I sit talking to you, I just feel like everything’s the same.”

“But it isn’t.”

“It can’t ever be, Al-Haitham” you agree. “But I’m willing to pretend. Just for a little while.” You look down at your hands, and slowly pull your glove off. A plate of silver metal catches the sun rays and Al-Haitham’s heart lodges right up in his throat at the cylindrical fingers that tug at your other glove revealing skin and a hand that he recognizes. “I thought it would be best if you saw it.”

“Does it… feel different?”

“Yes. I don’t… feel much the same way anymore, but most of the work was internal. Injections, a heightened metabolism, tinkered senses. A new leg. My eyes, obviously.” You gesture to your pupils, but they seem more natural the longer Al-Haitham watches. “My Vision gave me even more durability and he couldn’t kill me because of how useful I was to him, but I was the next best thing to a perfect subject.”

“Your father, then?“

“He’s alive. It was either him or me, and I gave myself up in an instant,” you answer. “I don’t regret that much of my life.”

He reaches forward tentatively for your flesh hand, but your mechanical hand comes into contact with him first, warm against his wrist. It’s almost like you’re still alive there, but the texture is too smooth, the edges where the metal plates too sharp to be human, and he looks down at the hand that touches him.

This is who you are now. This is who he’s made you.

“I want to move my family away from Snezhnaya, Al-Haitham,” you tell him in the lowest tone you can muster. Al-Haitham’s eyes meet yours, and a soft, pleading expression has taken over your face. “I know you’re the Acting Grand Sage, and that you have duties to the Akademiya, but—“ and he hears it for what it is.

I want there to be a chance for us.

“I would give you anything I could in a heartbeat,” he swears immediately. “If you need asylum, I’d be more than obliged to grant you your request. I—“ But nothing comes out. What his words cannot say, he hopes the silence can. I love you. I will help you in any way I can. I love you. I miss you. I love you.

I’ll find you.

I love you.

“You have beautiful eyes, Al-Haitham,” you whisper, lifting a hand to his cheek. When metal touches his smooth cheek, his eyes flutter closed, and a soft amused hum leaves his companion. “I think I’ve told you that before, haven’t I?”

Cupping your wrist with his own hand, he turns his face into your palm. It smells like nothing, yet there is a hint of your scent clinging to your sleeve that slowly seeps into his nose. His lips kiss the ticklish part of your hand, and your mechanical hand reacts like your normal flesh one would—your fingers curl against his face, and your thumb strokes underneath his eye.

He smiles. “Yes. Yes, I’m certain you have.”

Buer - About Samsaras

The Traveler reaches Port Ormos by nightfall a few days later. By then, it’s too late and they’re too exhausted to even think about trying to find the man they search for. For all intents and purposes, he could be gone, but it doesn’t hurt to ask around on their way to their room.

They ask the owner of the hotel, Shapur, manning the concierge, who briefly mentions seeing the Acting Grand Sage walking with a woman renting a room in the hotel by the water. She had the most distinct purple eyes. 

Somehow, the Traveler knows that’s who they’re looking for and they take off again with renewed vigour, and leave Paimon in the dust.

They reach the port quickly. It’s mostly empty, but there are two distinct figures sitting by the water speaking. The moon is their only witness, and when the Traveler steps from around a pillar to observe them more clearly, they can see those purple eyes that Shapur mentioned clearer than day. They glow, even at night, and look almost fake. They’ve never seen eyes of a normal mortal glow like hers do.

Then, Al-Haitham, leaning back onto his arms, pushes himself up, and he extends a hand to his companion to help her up. When he turns, his eyes, too, catch the bright moonlight in a flash of golden divinity.

For a moment, time seems to stop, and the Traveler watches as they, holding hands, begin to walk further down the pier.

“This world is an eternal samsara,” someone comments. Spinning around, the Traveler’s eyes widen at Buer walking from a nearby ramp. When had they fallen asleep? She smiles, green eyes wide and innocent. “Just as there are memories of passed family members living in those of the present, gods never truly die. They are reborn when the time is right, and even alike souls can find one another again.”

The Traveler frowns. “What do you mean?”

“They’re happy. Let’s not disturb them,” she says instead, stretching out her hand. The Traveler takes it, and instantly, they are brought back to their room in Shapur Hotel. Paimon has fallen asleep, and the Traveler sits on their bed. Buer perches herself on the table, her feet not quite making it to the chair. 

“When did I fall asleep?”

“Don’t worry. It wasn’t a long time. I just didn’t want to ruin their reconciliation,” she explains. “I don’t remember them well, anymore, but as I’ve read more ancient texts in hopes of… remembering the more important details that have been lost to me, the times I had with King Deshret and the Lord of Flowers come clearer. Together, we were the three God-Kings of Sumeru. It’s unfortunate you were unable to meet them. They seemed to be my greatest friends.”

“They both died ages ago,” the Traveler says, and the knowledge that comes to their mind is stuck in their throat, chained from being freed. Rukkhadevata and the forbidden knowledge. That must be a secret that stays a secret.

Buer giggles. “Died in the loosest sense of the term. Gods don’t truly die. They may be banished, or lose their memories, but their essence is immortal. Even when they seem to be gone, a seed of them will always remain on this planet, seeking the right time and conditions to sprout.”

The Traveler’s spine shoots ramrod straight, and their mouth drops open. “You don’t mean…”

“Although it’s hard to confirm, I find it hard to mistake the similarities between your friend and mine. Deshret has been reborn,” she says, “not resurrected like the Eremites had predicted. As for the Artificer. Her purple eyes, although artificially made, bear a striking resemblance to those Padisarahs of ages past, don’t they?”

“Like the one in Nilou’s dream,” the Traveler realizes, all of it dawning on them like a flood and crashing wave.

Buer nods. “There are very few coincidences in this world. Be happy for them. Their ending in their last lives was not a happy one and they’ve struggled and toiled in this samsara, too, just for the chance to meet again. Even still, they will have to continue to fight these challenges to persevere.” She sighs, looking down at her feet. “Hopefully in the next one life, they can just be born friends and save each other some heartache, and maybe we can be friends again, too.”

“The Goddess of Flowers sacrificed everything for the price of King Deshret’s divine knowledge,” the Traveler points out distantly, their voice soft and wistful. “He drove himself mad because she was gone.”

“There are some events that must repeat on different scales in each samsara,” the Dendro Archon agrees quietly. “A first meeting, a death, a betrayal. I’m happy that my friends have found one another again, even if they don’t remember, but perhaps that is their pinned, pre-determined fateful event that must happen in every samsara. I don’t know. Irminsul’s powers are beyond even my full understanding.”

“They say she disappeared in a storm.” A sharp chill shoots down the Traveler’s spine as Buer hums, nodding. “And she was never seen again.”

“You’re understanding,” she says, delighted. “This time, though, she came back to him, and this time, he knows the knowledge he craves is not worth losing her love.” Buer smiles cheek-to-cheek. “The rest is up to them, now.”

a/n: reblog/comment if you enjoyed! did you catch all the parallels and foreshadowing? there was as much as i could stuff in, from subtle to unsubtle! i read and watched so many theory threads/videos for this and again this was such a fun collab! 

the prompt was to either make the third person (in this kaveh) a love interest or someone who helps the main couple get together, and i thought why not a bit of both. after all, it is kaveh who was al-haitham’s biggest reason not to confess, and also kaveh who told al-haitham where to find you. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ heheh thank you for reading!!

[strwbmei]

Hi Mei, Can I ask a relantionship hcs sfw and nsfw for Aponia with a gender-neutral if possible, please? You are free to ignore this if you like

pairing(s): aponia x gn!reader

contains:

Aponia HCs

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Aponia was really hesitant to get into a relationship with you at first. She's seen many horrible things happen to those that she loves, and she knows better than anyone that she can't do anything to change it. Still, like a moth to a flame, she can't help but find herself drawn to your radiating warmth. Perhaps this time, she deserves to be selfish.

: ̗̀➛ The Deep End is a cold and dark place— one where normal humans most likely wouldn't be able to survive for more than a few days. Because of how long Aponia has isolated herself in it, her body has learned to adapt, lowering its temperature to match its environment. She can also see in the dark much better, which is pretty cool.

: ̗̀➛ Because of this, Aponia would always shy away from your touch. Believe me, it was much to her annoyance, but she had grown insecure about being so cold (literally and figuratively) and she didn't want to scare you away with it. She was especially hesitant to hold hands because they were the coldest part of her body, but she learned to be more comfortable over time.

: ̗̀➛ If the two of you have a disagreement (which is near impossible, by the way; my girl Aponia can never be wrong,) it's really obvious to everyone else because of how weird and aloof she acts. For example, she barely ever leaves the Deep End, but suddenly you'll find her in the lobby drinking with either Elysia or Eden with a somber look on her face; sighing every few seconds and completely ignoring Elysia's bombardment of questions. The Flamechasers find a great deal of amusement seeing how you're so easily able to influence a woman usually so dangerous and cunning.

: ̗̀➛ Expect her to be the more dominant one in the relationship, taking the lead and making decisions (with your input too, of course!) because she's used to being the one giving orders. Despite that, though, she's actually really inexperienced with relationships so it's more of a team effort; the team consisting of you, Aponia, and Elysia because she helps you get through to Aponia more and somehow manages to offer the best relationship advice.

: ̗̀➛ Aponia doesn't really get jealous, at least at first. She got upset, but she used to have the mindset that if you like someone else more, you should simply choose them instead and she'll accept the decision you make. Over time, she grows to be more greedy and possessive of you. Because of this, she really appreciates it when you give her reassurance that you're hers and hers only even when she doesn't ask for it.

: ̗̀➛ When Griseo started calling you Mama/Papa, Aponia almost shed a tear. Griseo is almost like a daughter to her, and hearing her call you that only further solidified the fact that you were the person she'd want to spend the rest of eternity with.

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ First of all, set a safe word. Seriously. Her libido is low, but every time the two of you have sex it always ends with you not being able to walk for months. Set a safe word if you value your life or if you don't want your pelvic bone to get turned into dust like actually. I'm not exaggerating; this woman goes rough.

: ̗̀➛ That doesn't mean that she means to, though. She's a gentlewoman at heart, but being surrounded by people like Kevin and Kalpas for most of her life has skewed her perception of an average human's limits. She's more of a soft dom if anything; you ending up with your legs shaking is already her being gentle.

: ̗̀➛ Remember how her hands are the coldest part of her body? Yeah, she's definitely taking advantage of that; cruelly tracing your body with her hands and making you tremble and whimper from the sheer temperature of her fingertips. As serious as she appears, she can be quite the tease when she puts her mind to it.

: ̗̀➛ Has a huge thing for dacryphilia. She was absolutely terrified the first time you started crying during sex thinking that she hurt you, but ever since you quickly explained the real reason and assured her that she did nothing wrong, she's made it a goal to make you cry from the pleasure. Did she really do a good job if you aren't a sobbing, shaking mess by the end of it?

: ̗̀➛ She doesn't have a specific preference for positions, but she hates it when she can't see your face. Aponia is the type of woman who thrives off of all of the small reactions she coaxes out of her partner. Blindfolds are definitely on the table, though— maybe it's her sadistic side, but she just loves seeing the fabric dampen with your tears...

: ̗̀➛ Aponia is really into body worship. It doesn't matter whether she's on the giving or receiving end of the deal, she loves the intimacy of the whole thing. She'll literally leave her marks and kisses on every inch of your body, and she expects you to at least try to do the same for her. This often leads to a lot of marking for both of you, though...

: ̗̀➛ For your own good, don't make her jealous. She's a patient woman; even more so with you, but if you upset her like that on purpose? Say goodbye to your ability to walk, speak, or think. Once you can speak again, make sure you give her tons of reassurance because that kind of stuff really upsets her. The idea of you with someone else gets her blood boiling.

[l1nghuarchive]

Hiii ! I saw your req were Opened may I rep Kevin and Kalpas su Elysia( separately ) ( if the is two much you can take out anyone of them <3 ) Turned into little Chibis the can't communicate only cute little squishs while there Lover was task with taking care of them while Mobius and Eden are looking for cure for this mess ? Have a good day :D ( sorry if my grammar was bad )

Pairings : Kevin, Kalpas, Su x reader

Type : hcs

A/n : this sucks and im sry for the wait, anon! I hope you don't mind me leaving Elysia out! :')

KEVIN.

• Spending your day as a babysitter of a chibi version of your boyfriend was not how you expected your weekend to turn out.

• You would be lying if you said you didn't find a chibi Kevin adorable, though if you say that to him he might freeze your finger or bite it.

• While Mobius and Eden were searching for answers to Kevin's sudden change in appearance, you were very much having fun with the chibi version of your boyfriend.

• Oh how funny it was when Kevin struggled to take something off the shelf due to his height, perhaps it was cruel of you but you would slightly laughed at how much he struggled and you would only help him if he approached you.

• Sure you can't really poke Kevin with your finger due to him having the ability to freeze you, that doesn't mean you couldn't tease him about how cute he is!

• At the end of the day, Mobius and Eden found both you and Kevin lying in bed as they placed the cure on your bedside table.

KALPAS.

• You had awoken from your slumber after someone pinching your ear, you were about to glare at Kalpas knowing he would be the only one to annoy you in the morning.

• But instead of seeing the usual grumpy Kalpas, he was much more.. Tinier? Or a much cuter version of the Kalpas you knew.

• Both of you soon found out that Kalpas had accidentally drank one of Mobius's chemicals.

• Of course as much as you tease Kalpas about his new chibi form, he had "accidentally" bit your finger because you kept on squishing his cheeks.

• Kalpas threw a tantrum when he found he had to be stuck in this form for a whole day, which meant teasing from both you and Elysia though due to his small form it was slightly adorable to you how he tried destroying something that was 3x bigger than him.

• Let's just say after 30 minutes of trying to make him go to sleep, he was back to normal to his usual big +(grumpy) form.

SU.

• Out of the three boys, Su is strangely one of the calmer ones when he awoke as a smaller version.

• Unlike Kalpas, he didn't really go berserk over his form though he still was rather confused.

• He didn't mind you using your finger to pet or poke his cheek since he does do that back to you as well.

• He would sneak into your shirt and peek out to observe you which is really cute sobs

• Who is rather sad that he can't talk to you since all that comes out from his mouth is just a squishy noise though he does make it up to you by hugging you or rather you pinkie finger.

• Both of you had fallen in each other arms or rather pinkies in Su's case.

Tysm for reading! Likes, reblogs and follows are always appreciated! :)

[yanderealm]

⋆˙⟡ YOUR VAMPIRE S/O HCS !

PAIRING: gi / hi3 / hsr x afab! reader

TW: blood sucking, needy actions, your s/o being thirsty for your blood 7/24, you suffering from anemia because they always sucks your blood, biting marks, hickeys, NSFW, yandere & suggestive themes, possessiveness, oral ( f! receives ), period sex & soft sex.

NOTE: done and gone crappy i’m dying 💀. && banner edit inspired by @justblades .

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

they immediately get turned on because you whimper too much while they were sucking your blood, they made you lay on the floor without wasting any time and whisper “ leave it to me… i won’t hurt this time, i promise. “ for not making you get panicked. but you end up being broken by them.

diluc, zhongli, lisa, alhaitham, yelan, dainsleif, ayato, thoma, kaveh, wanderer, durandal, su, kevin, eden, otto, elysia, himeko ( hi3/hsr ), dan heng, luocha, welt, jing yuan, seele

they suck your blood until you pass out because they find your blood so rarely sweet that they shouldn’t leave even a drop to someone else. you always carry their marks on your neck, cleavage, breasts, wrists, thighs and inner thighs that they makes a new one if any of those marks perishes, they even lick your period blood if you let them and finger you gently.

kaeya, ayato, arlecchino, zhongli, childe, pantalone, alhaitham, cyno, rita, raven, hare / mistelyn, kalpas, blade, kafka

they prefer to suck on your blood once a week because they don't want to ruin your beauty by sucking too much blood. they always cares about your skin in aftercare, makes you sure that you eat well against anemia. they’ll even apologize if they went too hard to make you cry loudly, immediately licking the wound they made as treatment.

thoma, diluc, kazuha, keqing, shenhe, jean, lisa, fu hua, su, mei, aponia, eden, yae sakura, kallen, otto, gepard, sampo, dan heng, natasha, jing yuan

they want only their marks on your body and want to have their scent mixed with yours when they rest their face on your neck or chest. they won’t even comprehend that they’re not the only one who’s getting possessive over their beautiful s/o. you become a vampire to be immortal and to be more closer to them. and maybe even sucking their blood too?

childe, diluc, xiao, albedo, lisa, eula, yelan, ei, pantalone, signora, dottore, capitano, shenhe, raven, rita, yae sakura, blade, serval, bronya

they want to be intimate with you while sucking your blood because you’re really seductive in their eyes! they want to see you whimper in pleasure under them!

miko, dehya, sara, dainsleif, alhaitham, jean, baizhu, wanderer, pantalone, capitano, miko, xiao, mobius, mei, durandal, jing yuan, sampo, seele, kafka, luocha, serval

the reason they fell in love with you is the smell and hotness of your blood! it drove them crazy and they even tend to change their sick traits for making themselves ‘ boyfriend / girlfriend material ‘ in your eyes just for your sweet blood!. but soon, they achieve your delicious blood in your first date.! and maybe you spiced it up in the end <3

ei, cyno, wanderer, sara, childe, itto, kaveh, hare / mistelyn, kallen, mei, elysia, otto, kevin, dan heng, gepard

( YANDEREALM ) // MASTERLIST.

[kalpasio]

Masterlist 2 (Jan 2024-present)

remember when I was like "idk why it won't let me link this, I'll figure it out later"

yeah uh. you're only allowed 100 links on a post and I hit the limit I did not know I had written that much oh dear

So I'm making a new masterlist, it's split chronologically, so more recent stories will be here and older ones will be on the first masterlist!

Please let me know if any of the links don't work!

Old Fashioned

Chapters 1-3 Chapters 4-6 Chapters 7-9

Beauty and Decimation

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Batter Up

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

[deathbxnny]

◇《Honkai Impact 3rd Masterlist》◇

-----♡

》Masterlist Navigation

-----♡

》Started: 11/06/2023

》Last Updated: 16/05/2024

-----♡

》General headcanons:

Hi3 men with a former celestial god reader!(Kevin/Otto/Welt)

Hi3 men with a weapon engineer!Reader.(Su/Welt/Kevin/Kalpas)

Kevin and Gepard Landau with a Freya-like!Reader.

Hi3rd men with a child Herrscher reader!(Su/Kevin/Kosma/Kalpas)

Hi3 main trio (Bronya, Mei, Kiana) with a younger sibling, who discovers that they are a Herrscher

Platonic welt yang and otto apocalypse with child!herrscher reader

》Kevin Kaslana:

Kevin being in a relationship with a Herrscher!Reader, who's also a member of the world serpent!

》Mobius:

Mobius with an overworked reader!

》Raiden Mei:

Raiden Mei relationship headcanons!

》Fu Hua:

Fu Hua relationship headcanon (Fu Hua x female reader)

Fu hua x gojo satoru like reader (gender neutral, romantic) hcs

》Otto Apocalypse:

Platonic otto with a child!reader he made from his and Kallen’s dna

》Durandal:

Durandal romantic hcs (with genderneutral Reader)

》Rita:

Rita fallen rosemary romantic hcs with gn!Reader

-----♡

《REQUEST INFO》

[nanamiluvs]

rules for requests ✧

about the request...

ʚ must mention if you want sfw, nsfw, both or suggestive.

ʚ please do not post the same request again if i do not reply :) different ones are ok tho

ʚ i will most likely write it in about a week or two if i'm ever going to !

sir cloud will write...

ʚ character x reader

ʚ alternative universes although most of my posts are written with modern au in mind !

ʚ in every category fluff , angst , nsfw , etc.

ʚ various kinks we don't judge here, but i may not write it if i feel uncomfortable with it !

ʚ various readers chubby, short, tall, shy, etc. i won't write for reader w a specific race though !

✩ really, try sending your idea if it doesn't fall in the won't write's ! ✩

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽°☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

sir cloud won't write...

ʚ dark content. any type of noncon, incest, stepcest, underage will not be posted.

ʚ character x character

ʚ underage character

ʚ female character sorry :"> !!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽°☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

characters sir cloud will write for...

ranked by how well they'll be written !

ʚ jujutsu kaisen nanami kento, gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, sukuna, geto suguru

ʚ honkai: star rail gepard landau, gallagher, jing yuan, blade, welt yang, sampo, aventurine, boothill, dan heng, sunday, argenti, veritas ratio, moze

ʚ genshin impact wriothesley, neuvillette, alhaitham, zhongli, diluc, itto, childe, kaeya, thoma, capitano, kamisato ayato

ʚ wuthering waves calcharo, jiyan, aalto

ʚ honkai impact 3rd kalpas, otto apocalypse, kevin kaslana, su

ʚ tears of themis artem wing, vyn richter

these are examples but you can also make a request for someone else ! i just won't write your request if i can't write that character :)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽°☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

more questions

...have a safe trip !

[bobbipins]

I just see Hi3 x reader fics appear sometimes in the Honkai x reader tag that is now flooded by HSR like I see the Kalpas x reader once in awhile in the Honkai x reader drifting around and the other posts r like HSR male chars 😭 begging for more Hi3 content so bad plzlzlzlzl The honkai x reader tag used to be just hi3 x reader content which was alot but now buried under HSR content

[powerfullnuggets]

Fem! reader (or nonbinary if you don't want to specify gender, I'm fem) x MOTH Members? Reader returns with a catastrophic wound after fighting a Herrscher. How do they react?

I don't mind doing gendered reader but I generally prefer not to mention it when its not important to not exclude other genres but you can ask how they will act to be with a fem!reader for exemple MOTH X READER INJURED

those who will panic and ask Su for help, will hold your hand and be anxious while you recover Pardofelis, Fu hua, Klein those who will be worried and will only ask every minute about your health during the recovery Kevin, Mobius ( but do not assume it after your establishment ), Kalpas, Sakura Not worried they trust the doctor who takes care of you but will do everything to take care of you and make you comfortable Elysia, Aponia, Eden will take care of you and heal you (but at the same time will be worried about your well-being) Su he will take revenge on the one who hurts you Kalpas, Mobius

will make for you a beautiful painting to celebrate your recovery :> Griseo ( platonic )