#like there is ONE specific thing in luminous worlds that I did out of lack of confidence and yanno what? still annoyed about it. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinnamonest · 2 years ago

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Hiiiiii !! I hope you're doing okay!

Not quite your usual ask as this will concern Genshin women (I hope that's alright), but I've been thinking about your Male Majority AU A LOT. It became a big fav of mine and I'd really like to write some OS (or even a multi-chap fic) about it sometimes.

I was wondering, what do you think the playable girls are/have become in this AU ? I imagine most of them end up the same fate as Reader, but what about those originally in high power such as Jean, Ningguang, Ganyu, Kokomi, etc,,.

Please know your MMAU and Hybrids posts are some of my favourites, though all of your writings are great. Have a nice day!!

AHHHH thank you <3333 I'm so glad bc I love it to and omg I loved making this so much. Words cannot express how much I love the girls and making fictional girls I love suffer is my lifeblood so this was a blessing to receive ( ´ ω ` ) I would love to write another one of these soon too, I didn't get around to Ningguang this time but I'd like to eventually (and also Lisa love of my life, and Shenhe too) but I did get several gorls here.

In case that isn't clear enough for everyone: this is bad things happening to the girl cast. Past experience tells me a lot of people are much more sensitive to this sort of thing as opposed to reader-inserts (which is totally fine, I understand why) but basically, if you do not like the thought of female characters going through similar things I write reader-inserts going through, you will want to skip this.

I know it can be character-specific for some people's discomfort, so, while most of the girls are mentioned at least a little, these are the ones with more detailed entries: (Amber, Noelle, Xinyan, Fischl, Lumine, Mona, Ganyu, Kokomi, Sara, Beidou)

Warnings: the usual for the AU (misogyny, fairly dark overall, prostitution, sex slavery etc), mentions of classism, very brief mention of arranged marriages between distant relatives but nothing enough to warrant the actual incest tag, also intense pain/blood mention on Ganyu's (also forgive me but I was obligated to reference the horn-snapping thing lmao)

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First some more general summary/worldbuilding:

The obvious glaring issue to be addressed here, is what happens regarding visions. It's rare to see a girl get one (they usually have the ambition and willpower broken out of them pretty early on), but sometimes they will get them when they're very young, before, you know, they have their spirits totally crushed by the brutal realities of the world and all that.

It's seen as sort of a red flag, a warning sign that the individual is going to be more rebellious and independently-minded than most. That being said, it can be put to good use. Dendro and hydro in particular have a lot of domestic uses. It's also something that could be a potential selling point, that often ends up getting them aligned with specific occupations. If you're a farmer, for example, having a girl that can quite literally make plants grow or water them in a few seconds' time is quite useful, so they'll often seek them out. If you're a common fisherman, you could really benefit from being able to electrocute water, and then just have to wait for all the dead fish to come floating to the surface and net them up. Vision-havers often make for good partners with such individuals in this way, and the girls are often very willing to comply and be partners, since it means getting to live with a singular person or a small handful of people, a much easier life than prostitution or the like.

Pyro, geo, and cryo, however, are seen as a lot more problematic, due to their high damage potential and relative lack of use for anything besides combative purposes. Sure, maybe the first can light the occasional fire at night, the other two can maybe make a path to cross a river or something, but outside of a handful of specific scenarios, they're not as immediately useful, and a lot more dangerous to whoever they decide to blast a burst of fire or ice or a huge chunk of rock at.

Firstly, they don't get weapons, which significantly limits the potential to cause harm. Their range is far smaller, and the output of energy far less. Still, they can harm those who come close, so more action is often necessary. Total destruction has unknown effects, and removing it far from their person leads to a sort of mental shutdown based on experimentation, so the best solution is to merely keep it close, but not in their possession. Usually it's just handed over to whoever happens to be the legal guardian or owner, who keeps it on their person, and gives it over when it can be useful. Some, of course, come to trust their property enough that they just let them have it at all times, but that's a rarer occurrence.

It's also seen as, or at least presented as, a benevolent thing. Oh, you can't have that. You're going to accidentally hurt yourself with it. Give it to me and I'll take good care of it. Such is one of many excuses given to them when they're first found holding one. Younger girls tend to obey out of naivete. Older ones who are a bit smarter might not fall for that, though, in which case, more forceful and less nice measures are needed to extract the thing.

Any girl can get a vision, though, and it's not really that big of a role in where you end up, aside from positively increasing the chances of not being locked into a brothel lifestyle. Instead, unfortunately, the class you're born into is more or less the primary determinant of your fate.

Yes, those born into elite families do have a significant advantage, as their families essentially bribe the authorities to look the other way for a lot of matters, or are often government/military officials themselves and get to keep their offspring safe as a perk of their power. Keqing, Eula, and Ayaka would probably have the best situations out of anyone. Keqing wouldn't exactly have any real power or significance, and likewise Eula wouldn't be allowed to be a knight, but they'd be safe, which is what really matters.

Elite, wealthy noble families usually just keep girls inside at all times, they essentially never leave the confines of their estates, and usually are well-guarded at all times. The way this is done often varies -- in Liyue and Inazuma they have sprouted the tradition of eunuchs, and it's common for families to have a few accompanying the girls at all times. Ayaka and Keqing would basically be confined to their families' respective estate grounds, and any desire to get up and go anywhere inherently necessitates being accompanied by two or three of said armed eunuchs, likely whose sole job is caring for them. Likewise, they can't get anything for themselves, so it's common for these guards to also function as servants, fetching even the most basic of things because it's preferable to having the girl get up or anything.

For Mondstadt, it's really just more common that as soon as the girl is old enough, she's married off to a distant relative, whom she stays by the side of at virtually all times. Any resentment of your family's ways or personal dislike for them doesn't matter -- a girl who has spite towards her family will be reprimanded and, if necessary, punished to the point where there is essentially no choice but to abide by the enforced mannerisms. Smile, stay by their side, act loving and subservient.

Which would be difficult for someone like Eula, but it's not as if there's any alternative. She's raised from early on to be this way, and her family consistently tries to reshape her more independent attitude. Even then, there's an easy fact to guilt her with: if her family wasn't caring for her, what would happen to her then? If you hate him so much, how would you like to be thrown out into the streets instead? Aren't you grateful we would never do that? So if one doesn't want that to happen, you should be very, very grateful that you have a loving family willing to arrange such a good match for you.

Some who are born to simply caring families also have somewhat of an advantage, even if they're not necessarily nobility or very wealthy types.

However, being in positions of power or authority, organizational/combative/local government-ordained occupations, or even highly respected occupations is... kind of unheard of. So anyone like Jean, Kokomi, Sara, and Yelan would be unable to fulfill the roles they otherwise had, at least in the leadership aspect. The very thought would be laughable. Likewise, you wouldn't see some girl being into the legal sphere like Yanfei, nor any sort of business operation like Hu Tao.

They still work in those areas, just have more of a backseat role. Jean still "works" for the knights -- got married to (read: bought by) a higher-rank, and now gets to perform little odd tasks as needed, gets to sit and listen during meetings and the like. Likewise, the Hu family funeral business was instead passed to the closest male descendent, not just the closest descendant. Hu Tao still gets to help out around the place -- they did pay for approval to marry her off to the guy after all. It's not that weird, they're quite distantly related, and very normal for the Liyue culture, much like the Mondstadt culture.

However, for some, being born middle-class highly increases your chances of being private property and not public property, but in a different way than just staying in the family. Unlike what you might initially think, black markets for human trafficking can actually be advantageous to the girls rather than the opposite, depending on the market.

See, the norm is that when one is born to lower or middle-class families, it's put into records so that once the girl is old enough (they're given an extra year or two of leeway if you ask for it at least) most regions have official agencies that are tasked with collecting them and taking them to be "officially" assigned to either be given to some high-rank government member, sold to someone, or, if none of those, just given to legal, taxed brothels. Since families strongly desire to avoid the last option, and yet, because they would have no control over the matter (even if she goes to a singular individual, they still have no say in who), they've developed a common underhanded strategy. Pay illegal traffickers to more or less take the girl before they're set to be collected, and pay exuberant amounts of money for her safety. In exchange, the standard is that these higher-status black markets essentially do background checks to ensure the girl is sold off to someone who isn't violent, abusive, or otherwise awful. Then they just tell authorities that she ran away, and that they can't do anything.

Similarly, under official standards, families not only have no control, but no knowledge -- most governments have decided it's more... conducive to social harmony that the families are cut off entirely, that they have no way of finding out what happened to the girl, where she is now, or ever communicating with her again. These paid black markets, thus, also establish a policy that in order to ensure the good treatment of the girl, the buyer has to allow her to have written communication with the family (if literate), or sometimes allowed visits. If the family reports that they haven't heard from her, the traffickers' role then is to essentially send the middle men whose job is to threaten and, if a repeated offense, beat the living daylights out of the uncooperative party. It works out for everyone involved.

Those who are common people, though, who can't afford to pay off illicit traders nor bribe officials into letting them keep them, are out of luck.

This is also where the bad kind of black markets come in, the cheaper, lower standards kind. Not that families pay them anything. But working families who can't afford guards often leave their wives, daughters, and so on inside, and especially the more naive sheltered ones will often times venture out, convinced that they'll be okay if they just stay close to home. Some very rural families believe they're safer because they're isolated, and may let their daughters or wives or sisters go roaming around their farm or pastures, telling them to just be careful and always stay close.

But that's not good enough, when you have people lurking and waiting for that kind of opportunity. There will always be some that prowl about, looking for the occasional girl that just went out on the porch to water the flowers or feed the animals, just for a split second, so it's no big deal... but a person can be grabbed and snatched up, gagged and tied within less than a minute, if you know what you're doing as they do. And you can have them sold off for a small profit by the end of the night, and it's not like the families can afford to hire investigative services (which are, here, insanely overpriced and only available to a select few deemed important enough to deserve them, otherwise everyone would constantly be utilizing them, and often primarily employed by the government as runaway hunters more than anything).

But onto individual girls and their misfortunes...

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There are some girls used in various performing arts, and this can be a pathway out of a much worse alternative life for some. If you have a skill or talent, honing it to perfection is highly advised, as it's one way to go from potentially living a large majority of your life as a breeding machine or onahole and instead having some sense of individuality and time to yourself.

Generally, there is a prevailing cultural mentality that you have to be put to some sort of "use" every waking second. For this reason, communal girls generally don't get a whole lot of free time -- you have to spend every moment doing something, even if it's not necessarily actively having sex. Still have to be talking and entertaining the company of some boy, being a pretty eyecandy piece at some sort of meeting, and so on.

But if you have some extra skill that provides some sort of value (that is, a performative skill of some kind, as any academic or particularly intellectual talents will be smothered like an unwanted spark instead), you can, albeit still controlled by some sort of manager of some kind, have a lot more room to breathe and exist on your own. You get some semblance of time to yourself because practice is important and all that. It's more like idol culture -- the girls are revered by masses and elevated to goddess status, worshipped and adored... and kept far away from their fans.

Consequently, Barbara, Xinyan, Nilou, and Yun Jin have an advantage. Xinyan's situation is a bit unique, though, because of the mentality with which it's approached, as well as the garb with which it's performed.

Yun Jin is a bit better off than them because for starters, she's more or less fully covered, but also because people have a sense of reverence for a valued piece of long-standing culture, so they're less aggressive and pushy. Likewise, while Nilou might be dressed... like that, but again, the whole reverence of tradition comes in, and she's kept up on a wide stage far away from viewers, the whole practice is very well-known and has a lot of funding to hire guards. Barbara keeps up the whole "pure" appeal, which also makes her seem a little more "untouchable," in addition to the general taboo that nuns are entirely off-limits. Regardless, several regions' legislation more or less forbids "celebrity prostitution" -- the act of a manager or production company making a girl famous for some sort of talent, only to start making more of a profit off of her body (something that happened enough times that they felt it necessary to make laws against it, even, although it's more about preventing profit that can't be taxed, more than for the sake of the girl).

Liyue is not one of those nations. It allows for such things due to, predictably, far stricter taxation practices that ensure it won't go unnoticed. And the culture of rock music is quite different from the others, a much less reverent sort of thing.

It's more high-energy and blood-pumping, the performers are known to get rather physically close to their audiences, and it's viewed as more pop culture rather than a sacred, historical tradition. Thus, people have less reverence, and thereby see the performers as less... untouchable. And if they don't view her as untouchable, that spells some problems, and a tendency for entitlement rears its ugly head.

It's not a sacred tradition, so why shouldn't they get touching and groping and sex as part of the after-show?? One huge gangbang would be a perfect finale to a such a heated, high-energy experience.

And unfortunately, it's not really her call to make. The only condition under which she can perform in the first place is by having a manager, and in this case, said manager decides that essentially running a post-performance prostitution side show would be incredibly profitable.

Which is a very accurate prediction. While rock music may not be as popular in Liyue at first, she slowly accumulates a fanbase, and while it's still somewhat of a niche, said niche is a cult following of rabidly obsessive fans. Does a portion of the reason behind her following have to do with those nice exposed thighs? Perhaps. Of course, said fans are also genuinely into the music, but there's no reason to not obsess over the performer too.

So imagine if, for comparison, the average dude had the opportunity to sleep with an idol well-known in her niche, and that's basically what happens here. They're willing to pay insane amounts of money just to touch, and even more to go further. The fame means that she makes far more mora per customer than the average prostitute, too (the reason it's outlawed in some places, since it's difficult to trace the purchases from an individual and not a brothel, at least in other nations). And as with many sorts of celebrity-fan interactions, it's more than just sex -- you can pay to actually sit down and spend time with the girl (very closely monitored of course, so they don't take more than what they paid for), for however long you're willing to pay for. Still, for both her and the other performer-type girls, this setup is still infinitely better than being in an actual brothel or owned by someone -- a fact which all talent managers are very quick to remind their performers of, a sort of quiet looming threat that if the girls can't keep up the singing or dancing or acting or whatever they do, then that's where they'll end up.

As for her, well, she has a rambunctious spirit and all, but conversations with creepy guys aren't exactly the ideal way to spend one's time. There's a lot of o-oh, uh... thanks...? in response to some compliments she might get. Keep in mind, there's no culture of respect or politeness in which guys are informed that such comments are not really going to be perceived as compliments, that a girl might not be all that flattered by it. So because it's totally appropriate in their minds, the most vulgar, disgusting strings of words you can imagine are much more likely to be given out as compliments -- although it's with complete sincerity and coming from a good intention, so, she can't bring herself to be too upset... and besides, she's supposed to say thanks and smile and take it or the manager might get mad.

And it's exhausting. Day after day. As if performances weren't tiring enough. Some people start to notice -- she looks less energetic than usual. She seems tired. She's oddly quiet. It creates some concern. This ultimately leads to an incident in which she ends up passing out on stage out of sheer exhaustion, and that's pretty significant when you consider the amount of weariness it takes for that to happen to such a naturally high-energy person.

Which actually warrants a quick questioning from a medical worker that's called for her, the contents of said conversation end up reaching law enforcement, and turns out, it'll not legal to work her that much. There's labor laws in this nation, after all. Out with the old manager, in with a new one. After that, she gets a much more balanced schedule, is allowed to take days off even... before going right back to it. Phew. The music industry is tough.

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A very, very, very few girls make a life by themselves.

Is it legal? No. Do they take the risk anyway? Of course, if you can you might as well. In any universe, you can get away with quite a lot by simply pretending you're allowed to. It's really astounding sometimes just how much you can do by just acting like you're exactly where you're supposed to be, doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing. Sometimes you have to dress or look the part, though.

Which is fairly easy for Mona, having the ability to make yourself disappear into a faint trail of water. Steal a collar when no one is looking, put it on, and there you go, you look like you belong to someone. Forge papers yourself in case someone gets nosy, and no one will really suspect you did it, since the default assumption is that you can't read or write.

A lot of people think it's very careless for someone to let a girl go walking around on her own, but then again, if that's the case, then it's probably someone really powerful and rich, and no one would want to get on the bad side of someone like that. So, incredibly, people sort of leave her alone, keep a distance from her even. At first, of course, she was naturally terrified it wouldn't work, but it surprisingly goes over quite well. After a while of living off of scraped-together funds (stolen from her own teacher and former legal guardian right around the time of reaching the sell-off-able age, before running off and high-tailing it halfway across the continent), she has to make a living somehow, and decides to do so the same way she would otherwise.

The whole "something you don't see everyday" aspect adds a sort of mysterious and exciting appeal that actually draws in customers. The idea that something is rare and valuable, something that captivates so much attention, sort of subconsciously lends her credibility, people take her word as fact. If it was just any other guy, they'd be less likely to even pay attention, much less believe the predictions, but the whole rarity and uniqueness sort of aligns with the esoteric nature of astrology, it seems fitting and authentic and thereby real.

The stature and physique catches the eye due to standing out amongst crowds (and the garb she ends up wearing certainly helps), they do a double take before coming closer out of curiosity, and usually end up paying for the services. Of course, many ask for additional services, assuming it's available, but those collars sort of serve as an equivalent to how another universe would have wedding rings -- when you point to it, they realize you're off-limits, usually sulking away in disappointment, but not wanting to invoke the wrath of some other guy by pushing further.

She also manages to bribe a local into letting her perform the rental apartment process because he's busy and can't make it today, so he told me to do it, I can sign for it... and turns out they'll allow it if you push. Coming to Mondstadt was a good choice after all, there's no way this would go over so well anywhere else.

One can get around for quite some time like that. But even in the freest nation on the map, it's still bound to come apart at some point.

As with any sort of crime, law enforcement do not like discovering that they have been in some way deceived for an extended period of time. It's embarrassing for them even under normal circumstances, and infinitely more so to have let something like this go right under their noses for months. It feels like her heart stops, hearing a knock on the door and a gruff voice that is definitely not the landlord, saying to open up the door. But the excuses aren't going to work this time, and trying to run away by slipping into the illusory torrent only leads to getting exhausted and coming out of it in the middle of the square in the center of town, only to be immediately tackled by knights in front of an entire crowd (watching with some combination of amusement and entrancement -- hey, look, the tights ripped...)

Damned landlord has been suspicious for a while now, but hey, she was paying for that unit no one else would take. But when she's no longer able to make those payments and ends up running several days late on rent, he realizes he can probably get a lot more money for sending in a tip to the knights about suspicions of criminal activity. Which is true -- it's well-known that, in all nations, there's a standard monetary reward for finding any runaways or otherwise unaccounted for or hidden girls, and potentially even more money if it turns out they're missing from a wealthy owner.

No such case here, due to that timing -- run off right before being sold or given to someone, so they'll have to find someone new. First, though, in cases like this, there's a crucial reeducation and remedial treatment to undergo first...

---

Gangs and treasure hoarders and eremites and all that still exist of course.

And so do pirates. Joining these types of gangs can also be an ideal route to obtaining sex for an otherwise sexless young man. See, oftentimes they will scrape their funds together and buy a communal slave of sorts. Of course there's a lot of bickering whenever the time finally comes to make that purchase -- one guy says he wants a girl with big tits, but another guy wants small tits, this one wants a young one and this guy wants an older one... eventually, either a compromise is reached, one guy with the most authority makes the decision, or, in a rather comical display to an outside observer, they may even take a vote on the matter.

Which is exactly what the Crux fleet does. There were a lot of differing tastes among the men, the vote that ultimately wins (by a single vote, much to the chagrin of those who voted otherwise, but oh well) was a set of characteristics: not particularly young nor particularly older, big tits and big thighs. Or, in the eloquent words of the member who initially proposed this set of features, 'thick as fuck.' Quite the win for the enthusiasts of said traits.

That being said, no one really decided on a personality or anything, so the guy sent to actually go buy the new resident ship slave didn't think much of it.

This poor woman has been through a lot. She's old enough to have been out in the world for some years now, constantly thrown about from one lifestyle and environment to the next. And she has a bit of an... attitude. 'Fiery spirit' is how the vendor worded it. Never been privately owned, always got the short end of the stick and sent to brothels instead. After a while, that really starts to wear on a person's psyche, especially someone stubborn and prideful by nature. Constantly having that pride stamped out creates a lot of resentment. The last of said brothel owners had finally had enough of her tendencies to cause problems, and sent her off. But if anyone can handle that, pirates would be able to, right? So they essentially shove her off on them for a low price.

Some of the members are practically intimidated by the woman. She's not a particularly grouchy or mean person, and is actually good-natured, but she has a bold energy to her. And as it turns out, she doesn't do things just because you tell her to. Scary. Aren't they supposed to be really soft and gentle?? What gives?

Well, it's probably a matter of time, right? Kind of like when you get a dog, and it may be skittish before it adjusts. They just remain hopeful about the matter... it's not like they can hold back anyway.

See, the thing about brothels is that they're still regulated. Despite the whole "need to be put to use" mentality, for health concerns, the girls get breaks each day, they get to take days off per month. The people who run brothels are usually fairly well-educated enough to know that such things are necessary. A bunch of pirates, many of whom have never touched a girl in their lives? Much less so. Why can't she just keep going 24/7? If there's thirty or so of them, that's not enough to spread one hour each evenly!

Or, wait... she probably needs to sleep right? Do the females sleep less or more than normal people? Or is it the same? They end up just having to ask her. Interestingly, plenty of guys have a lot of misconceptions like that -- some tend to greatly overestimate the concept of dimorphic differences, and think of the other sex as a foreign species or the like whose bodies work entirely differently or something, and are surprised to learn that yes, they eat and sleep just the same, they have complex thoughts and wants, they can remember things that happened recently, and so on. Regardless, this unfortunately means they can't all get some every day, so they end up having to evenly divide time. And with time, they learn to be less intimidated, and more commanding. Surely with enough time (and enough mileage of cock), she'll start being less standoffish.

Of course, there's also the issue of keeping her sort of secretive -- if other rival groups were to find out about her, it would be motivation enough for others to raid their ship, possibly getting them all killed. So for the most part, they keep her below deck... turns out though, that has some negative consequences. How come she's all still and lethargic and unresponsive? Are they sensitive to lack of sunlight, like normal people are? Seems like evolution would have gotten rid of need for sun and fresh air by now.

Well, they can take her out during the day, as long as they keep close watch and all. They just hurriedly stuff her back down there if some other ship approaches. Likewise, she's contraband, technically. Obviously they didn't go to a legal market, so they have no papers or anything. This makes it... difficult when arriving in ports that have active law enforcement posted and checking around. Hope she's okay with being gagged and stuffed in a barrel for a couple of hours.

One could find the ways of the will of the universe quite humorous, if you stop to think about it -- in another universe, they'd be taking orders from the same girl they now have bent over every surface of the ship on a daily basis, would be relying on her to take down large enemies too. Fate works in interesting ways.

---

Some roles, in contrast, remain the same in title, but simply take on new meanings and responsibilities.

The divine priestess of Watatsumi, for example, has a very critical job! She is revered, an object of awe and adoration... and a sort of holy prostitute.

They take the whole idea of her being a healer to a maximum extent. It is believed that by having intercourse with the priestess, you will obtain divine blessing and good fortune. Consequently, she's trained specifically for the position. Kokomi gets stamina and endurance training, flexibility training, and so on. So that by the time she finally starts to officially begin fulfilling the role, she'll be perfect at performing the responsibilities that said role entails. Each and every day she can spend hours satiating the needs of her very loyal and adoring soldiers.

Sometimes this means one-on-one sessions with individual soldiers (the promise of getting to have the priestess to yourself for an entire hour is quite the way to motivate the troops to perform tasks, and a morale boost too!), and sometimes it means taking a long line of them, one after the other.

Of course, some might say it's merely a natural, hormonal thing, but if you were to ask them, they believe that the resulting increased motivation in the troops, their increased vigor and elevated mood, yet simultaneous tranquility and lack of stress or hostility with each other, is a divine act of providence, and evidence to the validity of the priestess's deified nature. After spending much of her day tending to healing physical wounds, she also heals the hearts and minds of the soldiers too, with her mere presence (and body).

It really goes beyond being a priestess. See, in the religious canon that has evolved over centuries of development of folk beliefs on the island, she's technically a vessel that carries and serves as a messenger for an elder fertility goddess. Due to this, she's also seen as a predictor of fortune in the social sense -- the divine priestess being impregnated is supposed to be a positive omen for the people of the island as a whole, indicating birthrate prosperousness for the near future. It's somewhat akin to how traditional folk beliefs would say this or that sign indicates an upcoming good harvest or the like.

It's all done with what is, to an outside observer, a bizarre and even comical sort of seriousness and reverence. They take the matter very seriously and stake great importance on it, exhibit religious-like austerity while essentially running a train on the poor girl.

Sometimes it is akin to a religious ceremony. Once a month, on full moon nights (when it is believed hydro is at it's maximum power, given the connection to tides and all that), they have essentially a huge, one-girl orgy, consuming the entire night, complete with lots of food and alcohol. If the priestess were to be impregnated at that time, it's said that would produce an incredibly powerful soldier one day. So they all give it their best to pump her all full as possible.

And if one soldier in particular is having a rough time of it, shows a lot of signs of stress or depression, they just send him on his way to go straight to her. Sometimes even if a guy is sick or something, they do the same, and if he gets better after some time (you know, like the body tends to naturally do on its own when you get a cold) then they claim it to be the medicinal properties of her body and fluids that can heal even illness! Incredible. Although sometimes this means the priestess herself gets sick in return. This, they believe, is basically her using her divine power to remove the illness from the man and taking it upon herself instead. Such a self-sacrificing, benevolent priestess she is, to do that for them. They're eternally grateful.

Oh, but of course, none of this means she has any sort of authority or anything. Other leaders are still appointed to take care of the actual decision-making and all that. After all, she's priceless, worshipped, the object of awe and devotion and adoration, but at the end of the day she's still... you know.

But the Resistance soldiers aren't the only ones that get a sharable group pet. Of course, having that resource (read: pussy) readily available is crucial to the success and morale of soldiers. So the shogunate forces get a toy as well, even if theirs is not quite as revered, nor as... compliant.

Likewise, though, the Kujou clan does traditionally take this responsibility on, so like Kokomi, Sara was more or less well-aware all her life this would one day be her fate, and was prepared accordingly. She's not particularly eager or accepting of it, though, in fact is quite resentful. Some girls are like that -- they just don't have the capacity to comprehend the bigger picture of the world, so they're resentful and rebellious and don't understand why the hierarchy and order of things is so important. They view the subservience as humiliating or something, but it's really not, it's an honor and a privilege and she should feel very proud of it... unless of course they want it to be an act of humiliation and degradation, in which case it is. But she's not supposed to feel that way unless they want her to at the moment, of course.

But propriety is of great importance to Inazuman culture, and really hammered into people's heads as something to be valued, so... if these are the duties that are in place, so be it. These guys are a bit rougher, they lack the same sense that what they're shoving their cock in is a divine being, so they can be more impatient and demanding. That doesn't mesh very well with her personality, as you might imagine. Narrowed eyes, a sternness to her voice telling them to be patient and wait their turns... but they can just ignore that. Alternate solutions exist, of course, she's got plenty of holes, and they can be stretched to accommodate more than one person at a time, too. She also can't argue against it if her mouth is full.

They're still respectful, to an extent, and they appreciate her a lot! But she's also scary to some... she walks a fine line wherein she's liked for her contributions, especially a lot of the younger or newer boys are very fond of her, approach her smiling... but the smile wavers due to her intimidating aura. That being said, as she's frequently subjected to rather degrading treatment, being able to bend her over at any given time is an experience that helps a lot of new recruits shake off that intimidation. They still love her though! Even if she's not particularly nice or affectionate.

For a lot of them, it's quite literally the only female interaction they have ever had, so they take even the slightest kind words or praise or willing touch as a sign of affection, and cling to it like their lives depend on it. They become desperate for more, hungry for more little droplets of affection, or even favor, if they could manage to be so lucky. Plenty of guys have received a polite gesture or her slumping over on them out of exhaustion post-coitus, and gone on to inform their entire squad that he is now her favorite, based on this clear evidence. All of said positive interactions with her are considered great bragging rights amongst them.

And much like with the opposing forces, they also tend to have large-scale, orgy-like events at regular intervals with a sort of ceremonial flair to it. Kujous produce very strong and intelligent soldiers, so the hope is that with the sperm of so many men inside her all at once, surely only the strongest will manage to impregnate, producing the best offspring possible. In one form of service or another, she's just as vital to their success either way.

-----

And much like Inazuma, Mondstadt also values the health and well-being of their knights. But Mondstadt has less of an orderly culture focused on propriety and all that, so the knights are a bit less patient and more aggressive in their pursuits -- leading to conflict and sometimes subsequent injury when fighting over a girl. Consequently, they add some more funding to the communal sex budget, and get more than one.

Now, as mentioned previously, girls born into noble families like Eula are essentially protected from this sort of thing, so they usually obtain ones born to normal households, who didn't quite make the cut to be protected by becoming nuns either.

Which is a possibility -- joining a nunnery is one of the very few ways in Teyvat to completely escape being some sort of pet or slave. However, given the... exceptionally large number of applicants, while also having very limited space, they can't just take in everyone, so it's usually on a first-come first-serve basis if a space is open, or if you have some sort of benefit to them. Barbara, for example, much like Xinyan previously, is marketed as an idol and draws in revenue, all while remaining off-limits to the crowds of fans. Rosaria has her own set of skills, and, well, she was one of those "right place right time" individuals who just so happened to come along when a slot was available.

Amber and Noelle would have likely not been as lucky, but they didn't really consider it anyway, both are pretty happy in their roles. That being said, applying for the knights is also a much better outcome than public brothels, so they're fairly content where they are. Both are very spirited and dedicated girls who give it their all! They're very committed to being helpful and properly performing the job description. Genuinely, both are fairly content -- being in a world where it's all so normal, this is considered a pretty good life to be living, and they're both rather happy to be useful and do their best. Jean was lucky enough to actually marry someone, so she's off-limits to most of the knights, but these two are instead at the beck and call of anyone who needs them.

Of course, higher-ranked knights get their needs prioritized, but even after they're done, the lower-ranks can have some too. They're also very well-protected; in general, even brothels try to take care of the girls' well-being as much as they can, but that's harder when you're working with large numbers and need to make a profit, so sometimes those girls are just told to tolerate things they'd rather not. But in this case, with just the two of them, if someone mistreats them in any way, it's grounds for immediate reprimand and punishment. After all, the harmony of the whole atmosphere is largely dependent on the two of them -- when they're happy and all bright and bubbly, it lifts everyone else's spirits as well, keeps up the morale.

It's all very normalized to go through the meetings with one of them crawling around under the table, moving her mouth from one to the next as it drones on. Even afterwards, when some individuals come up to ask questions after the meeting, there's always some guy fucking one girl over the long meeting table on the other side of the room. Sometimes they have to tell them to quiet down. Sex is generally freely given, just depends on who is busy at a time, and they're patient enough to form lines most of the time. Sleeping is a much more involved process though -- with so many knights, they have to coordinate a sleeping schedule so that each one gets to have a nice warm body to hold at night once a month or so.

Oh, and of course, they take care of some small tasks too. Noelle tends to prefer cleaning up and staying in headquarters, while Amber tends to go out with exploration patrols and the like (they have to have at least one, what are they supposed to do if they get horny in the middle of patrol if they don't have an immediately available hole??), and she can do little things like set fires, light lamps, make food, all of which are more or less the only use her vision ever gets.

------

But unlike them, everything is so much infinitely worse when you're someone coming from somewhere... normal. Poor Lumine.

Most girls are just born into the system -- to a family, from which their fate is determined by class and by the whims of auctioneers who determine if they get sold or go to public use, and a few by special circumstances.

So when some girl just sort of appears out of nowhere, there's a bit of confusion on to what should even be done.

She's smart and observant and all, so she would know something is wrong. Walking into the city gates and being met with wide-eyed stares, the sort of surprise where people freeze up in the middle of some task and go completely still, fixated on her, slack-jawed and eyebrows raised.

There are plenty of reasons, though, to imagine why this might be. She does stand out, clothing and all, or maybe there's some feature she has that doesn't exist in people here that she hasn't noticed yet. With such a crowd as the bustling city, it's easy to not immediately notice the singular glaring difference between oneself and everyone else.

That doesn't last long, though. Sure, she might have been doing something against cultural norms, but being apprehended? That's a little too far! What could the problem possibly be, that this is necessary? Or that's her train of thought, suddenly feeling a sense of dread as a group of three or so knights surround her, tell her to come with them, refuse to answer why.

Rather bold, though, they think. Rather stupid, too. The runaways usually move at night, and try to stay hidden. But walking around in broad daylight, right in the middle of the street, showing off so much skin? What did she expect to happen? If anything, dressed like that, she's lucky she didn't get jumped by a crowd. Granted, everyone knows they're not particularly intelligent, but come on.

Of course, they don't seem very convinced by her story. They just sort of chortle and smirk, amused at first, quickly annoyed when it persists. From another world, she says. Uh-huh. Sure. Listen, don't make this harder than it has to be, just tell us where you're supposed to go.

But she's relentless in her wild fantasies she keeps spouting, and thus, they're forced to dig through databases, contact locals and see if anyone knows where this girl is supposed to be. The efforts prove futile. No one knows. There's not even a record of her birth or existence across the different nations. Maybe she really is telling the truth.

Not that it matters anyway.

No, a quick examination -- just in case, since if she really is some kind of alien, her body could be different -- proves that she has all the right parts. They had to get multiple people to hold her down so someone could do the stripping and examining, which is quite the shocking experience, as most of these guys are only used to seeing very demure and passive females, so seeing one put up a fight like this is quite unusual. But she proves to be very normal, physically at least. Tits for squeezing and milking. All the right holes and a womb, and hips that looks very childbirth-suitable. A little bit on the strong side, especially for her size, but of course not so much that it could ever be comparable to the average man. Besides, a few months of no physical activity should take care of that anyway.

They can just put her with the others. So they just haul her off to sell like any normal girl, kicking and screaming the entire time. She really started freaking out when she overheard a few choice words and finally put two and two together to understand the position she's in, they had to pretty quickly take that weapon away, and tie her up too much to use this newfound elemental power... and that... fairy thing gets put in a cage too. Maybe they'll sell it or something. Still, the girl fights to the bitter end, dragging her heels and thrashing like a wild animal. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing either, no, quite marketable actually. Some guys even pay extra for the fighters.

-----

Some girls are really sheltered, though. One would have to be, to remain in a little fantasy and never having grown out of it. "Prinzessin." Hah, give him a break.

That's the observation of one particular young man, jobless and just barely scraping by, who has decided to try his hand at kidnapping and selling to traffickers as a means to make a little extra cash. A nobody, just a face like any other, nothing special about him, and self-aware of it. People should acknowledge when they're just an average person, he thinks, and this girl could stand to take that advice to heart too. Sure, you can pretend to be a princess or whatever, but that doesn't change that you're just a regular person.

Gods. Shut up. Shut up! Please.

How did he even end up here? The poor man has been listening to this girl go on for ten minutes. What did he ever do to deserve this? He thought it was a lucky coincidence, and took advantage of it -- some dumb girl roaming around in her yard unattended, so he decided to grab her and drag her off thinking he could sell her to actual traffickers, and now has to listen to... that.

...that you shall unbind me this very instant, lest it be your wish to suffer the unbridled and maximal--

I'm going to gag you if you don't stop talking.

He's heard more words previously unfamiliar to him in the past hour than the rest of his life combined. He's silently sitting there, weighing back and forth in his head if the usual reward price is worth this psychological torture. Maybe he can just drop her off back at her home. Agh, but there might already be authorities there if she's been noticed missing, and he'll get arrested.

Now he's stuck with the consequences of his actions, at least for the next 24 hours or so until he finally makes his way by moonlight to a known hangout for traders (traffickers typically have a lot of overlap with Treasure Hoarders and Eremites and other such groups), and then he can shove her off on them and collect a reward. It's bearable... barely. She even has the nerve to electrocute him, didn't even see that pesky gem-looking thing attached to her until he got a shock to the face from a damn bird. Pretty sure these things don't have a lot of value when sold on their own, so he'll just give it to the traders too... but confiscates it for now, and the bird disappears with it, seemingly much to the girl's distress, but he can ignore that if he concentrates on tuning her voice out. It's somewhat hard to resist temptations too, but the traders find it distasteful if it's evident you had your way with the goods prior to drop-off, so he can refrain for now, maybe visit a brothel later.

He's glad to finally be rid of her the next day, after carrying the girl all the way to the next town over and dropping her off with a trafficker in the woods before the sun rises. Could barely discuss price negotiations over her babbling on and on with very eloquent threats to curse him or something like that. Nonetheless, he spends the day gleefully drinking away. He's already spent a small sum on booze by the time night comes around, and has just left the local pub when a familiar face comes seeking him out of the crowd. One of the traders from earlier. Says it's urgent. Draws him outside into the woods.

He has the same girl from earlier with him. Ankles and wrists bound, a very thick layer of tape over her mouth. The trader picks her up and extends his arms out, holding her out for him to take.

Take her back.

He pauses.

...Huh?

The trader huffs in frustration.

They can't handle her.

...HUH??

Told me to give her back to you. Keep her. Don't need the money back.

In one swift motion, the trader shoves her forward into his arms, turns, and bolts off.

And now, he is left with the girl in his possession. Can't take her home without running the risk of present law enforcement arresting him on the spot. He doesn't like the thought of just letting her go, either, could get taken by some really bad people -- hey, he's a trafficker, not a heartless monster.

There has to be some sort of alternative. Which he might be able to think of one, if--

I was nice enough to take that gag off, shut up long enough for me to hear myself think.

Ugh. But even then, there seems to be no real option that works out well. He'll have to keep her with him until he can find a trader willing to take her off his hands.

Which proves difficult, as it turns out, stories traveled quickly, and all the local traders have been told about him and the girl he has with him, and to avoid them. Keep her, they all say, some chuckling. It's not just a matter of the... obvious, but also, girls who are, ah, unique in some way, present a bit of a problem to illegal traffickers, as they can be recognized by those who might have previously known them and reported to the law, whether it's for visual traits or ones related to personality. She's too much of a risk.

And thus, he's just sort of... stuck with her. Ends up in a sort of limbo state wherein he's dragging her along with him, keeps saying he'll drop her off with the next person, but eventually stops trying. Yet, he's also made no promises to do anything else. And again, despite being a bit of a grouch and having participated in morally loathsome activities, he's not heartless, of course he gives her food (Oh my god, stop complaining! I went out of my way to make it for you, I didn't have to do that) and a sleeping space (--because I can't *afford* another sleeping bag, okay? I spend all my money taking care of you, you ungrateful little... ugh, come on, just share this one...) and puts up with some rather frustrating tendencies (I am NOT going to call you that, for the millionth time.). She can be... difficult.

Of course, it's not long before he breaks and ends up taking those frustrations out on the girl anyway... she words it something along the lines of 'defiling her with his repulsive plebian seed' or something like that, he's stopped paying much attention. Even if she squirms and pushes and spits insults at him, it's still a warm, wet hole. And besides, said insults decrease in frequency over time. So do the threats to annihilate him after regaining her supposed "full power," whatever that means. He's pretty strict about keeping the vision tucked away from her anyway... at first. After a while, he realizes that if she has her bird, she'll be in a much better mood and much less likely to ramble on and on, so it's allowed for short periods of time. Said bird is not too fond of him, though, tried to attack him more than once. She freaked out -- even broke character -- when he threatened to turn it into a roast, so the compromise is that if she tells it not to attack him, he can tolerate it.

...Eventually, he starts to think that this is okay, perhaps. He can just... keep her himself. Avoid law enforcement, take on a few odd jobs to get money for extra food. Scrape together the funds for fake documents. He'll just have to be vigilant so no one steals her. Not that he's getting emotionally attached or anything, no... so he thinks to himself whenever he's laying there at night.

--that if not for your misdeeds alone should ill fortune befall you, it would be upon me to--

Please let me sleep.

-----

Finally, there is one way to live a relatively free life: being a non-human, even if humanoid. Of course, the adepti fit this descriptor perfectly, so Ganyu has an easier time than most.

Working among humans is, of course, off limits. They wouldn't allow it anyway, and it would just lead to trouble. Thus, she lives a much more isolated life than she would otherwise, remaining instead in the wilderness, far away from people and consequential danger.

...But, of course, as they always do, human guys find ways.

There is an urban legend of sorts about the qilin adeptus. She's very special, because she's very free, and lives all by herself, up in the mountains, so it's said. That's a very foreign concept to most guys.

And isn't it a shame? Free pussy walking about in the wilderness, going unutilized. Imagine the most perfect, amazing food one could eat, and it's just left to sit there and rot, uneaten -- what's even the point, if the thing isn't going to be used for the purpose for which it exists? It makes no sense. One of the many enigmas of the non-human world.

Someone should fix that. Or so is the general consensus on the matter.

There's no need to make up some tall tale about her having magical or medicinal properties that will heal disease or grant immortality or anything like that, no. Some do say it brings good fortune to see her with your own eyes, but that's not really in the forefront of anyone's mind. What's more important is the very concept of conquest itself.

That's why so many people come trying to take her down. No real benefit to themselves, and it's actually taking quite a risk... but can you imagine being the guy that gets to say he's the one that captured and tamed a mythical beast? To come out of the wilderness with that creature in tow for everyone to see? It's quite the power-trip, egotistical fantasy, the sort of perverse fantasy that gets a lot of young guys' blood pumping (usually towards a specific bodily region). And it motivates plenty to try their hand at finding the creature.

Thing is, most young men are an unfortunate combination of impatient, loud, and quite dumb. So time and time again, they always fail. She's alerted to their presence and flees, and they're forced to come back empty-handed.

The problem is that this only makes the whole thing worse. After so many people fail, her notoriety increases, more and more people have heard of her, and only increases the sense of elusiveness and challenge -- that is, for every person that fails, it will be that much more satisfying of a victory, all the more of a source of pride, to whoever finally doesn't fail. Not to mention, somehow, a myth was born that if you break her horns off, she'll go limp and be unable to move, and now the boys bring up hacksaws and chisels and hammers with them. It's scary. Even if she uses an inhuman qilin form, they still recognize her too.

Of course, part of it is her own doing... see, she's still so good-hearted, so empathetic, that she's saved the lives of those trying to capture her more than once. Some poor guy knocked himself out cold on a rock... he'll freeze to death if left here. So she takes him back, puts him down close to the edge of civilization. Or, a few times, some guy has slid down onto a ledge, no way to climb up or down, and she extends a hand to help pull them up -- and run off as soon as they're on their feet. This only increases the number of survivors to go home, tell the tale, and spark further interest in others, and it likewise increases the chance they'll try again, but... she just can't let them be harmed.

But still, due to the aforementioned traits they tend to have, most fail, over and over. Yet, there's a subtle awareness in the back of her mind that, one day, someone is bound to finally succeed.

But as long as a human is peaceful... she won't do anything to discourage them.

There's a boy that's come into the wilderness these days to hunt. The other adepti would be a bit stricter, would tell him he has to leave, but... he wouldn't be this far away from the nearest village by choice. There must be a food shortage or something. And he's hunting actual game, leaves with a few pheasants or rabbits at the end of each day, and then he goes back to a small tent on the edge of the territory, having made a full camp for himself, fire and tools and all. A few little makeshift stations, one for tanning hides. Just a hunter, nothing more.

In fact, she becomes a bit worried sometimes, and goes to check on the boy, ensure he's fine, which he always is.

She gets a bit too close, though, and ends up stepping on a stick, snapping it in half. He looks up, having been crouched down and prodding the fire. Eyes go wide.

...But then he smiles. Waves. Doesn't get up and come charging at her, doesn't fixate on her with that crazed expression some have. The lack of surprise at the sight of her seems to indicate that he knows of her, knows who she is, but he makes no move to cause any harm.

He doesn't pose any problems. He never goes far up into the mountains, usually stays at the base of it, hunting small animals, only venturing up to get the occasional ram or deer. He has a routine -- hunts most days, every Friday uses leftover guts to go fishing, then on weekends, he hauls all those tanned animal pelts over his shoulder, leaves overnight, and comes back the next day with all the little tools and non-perishable footstuffs and books presumably bought with the money from selling the hides. Such a simple life, some humans do lead. It sounds pleasant, really.

And he still sees her sometimes. They happen to cross paths at a distance. He always smiles and waves, but never does anything to harm her. He's a safe one. She's happy he's prosperous, and goes to check on him often from high vantage points during her daily routine, the same walk each day. Oh, now he's cutting down trees... Building a cabin. Must intend to stay long-term. No matter.

He's not even around, one fateful day. She's only going about her path as usual. The same little walk she takes, each and every day. The autumn leaves pile up all over the ground. The area is so beautiful around this time, so the walks are even more relaxing, she likes to take her time, slowly making her way down the beaten path where the grass has been worn away by all the animals and the occasional traveler passing over it, and although it's covered in leaves now, she still knows where it is by heart. Each and every--

Step.

There's a sort of pain that doesn't get an immediate sound. Intense, overwhelming pain, that hits the nervous system with such a harsh, brutal shock, it leaves one speechless. Gasping for breath, chest and stomach muscles spasming, body going rigid.

Only after a few seconds does she hit the ground and scream. Falling down makes it pull further at the flesh, and she wails. A wail so deafening it could be heard for a mile or more.

And when she props herself up on an elbow, body lying on the ground, and looks down at her leg with watery eyes and blurred vision, she can still see the jagged metal spikes, the blood oozing out where the metal pierces the flesh. A jaw-like contraption, triggered by weight pressing down on the flat part in the center. The same kind of trap used by...

...used by... hunters...

A familiar face pokes out from behind a tree. Comes rushing over to help.

But it's anything but comforting. The soft smile and pleased expression makes it clear that it has all gone as was intended.

Sorry I had to hurt you.

He's still smiling. But so sweet. So soft and comforting, it isn't right, doesn't line up with someone who would do this.

It's okay. You'll be alright.

Pulls the weighted piece out of the ground. Can't pull it out here, or she could bleed too much, have to wait until getting back to the camp. Wait, is that even a problem for them? Can they bleed to death? Well, better safe than sorry. He asks, but she can't answer any questions. She's sobbing and wailing, chest heaving with rapid, shuddering breaths, body trembling. To see a revered creature in this pathetic of a state is probably very rare. He feels special. And very guilty, keeps mumbling apologies... But special.

She doesn't fight it when he rolls her to her side, gently ties her hands behind her back. She squirms a bit and jerks against the retraints when he takes the vision off her hip, but she's too restrained and in too much pain to do much. And she merely whimpers and trembles when she's picked up. Her leg is bent at an odd angle. Must have broken it when she collapsed, twisting it against the metal.

But he was considerate. Made sure to set the traps very close to the camp, so it will only be a short distance. He's memorized where each one is -- he saved up a lot of money, bought enough raw ore to make a ton of them -- and expertly maneuvers around each one until out of the area, cooing comforting words and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

He did also get a saw with that money, though. Heard the whole horn thing, and you can never be too careful... but that can wait until tomorrow.

#m0na my beloved <3 #lena's asks #I love them all so much I. I need to take a deep breath. my girls #my girls!!!!#also fschl x trafficker otp honestly #and hunter boy w gnyu too for that matter #im attached to npc boys I made up in a half hour #.mmau

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babylyctor · 4 years ago

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can John actually control time or am i making things up? trying to reach a conclusion via tumblr posting

so as a theory this is 75% vibes. however there’s some things in the books that give me pause, and i wanted to put together all those bits and see if there’s something there. i’m not totally on board with this idea because it seems too complex to leave entirely to the last book, and i don’t know how it could fit with the rest of the narrative (or do i?) but in any case i keep thinking about it so here’s this way too long post. spoliers for everything

first, this fucking suspicious sentence that’s one of the first things John tells Harrow (Chapter 2, HtN)

"I would let you come back, bit by bit, until you felt entirely ready to wake up. I can’t. I mastered Death, Harrowhark; I wish I’d done the smarter thing and mastered Time. I have to ask you to get ready soon, and so I am going to show you something I hope might … trigger your readiness.”

so this sounds like a really dull complaint on this immortal god’s part but also i don’t trust a single thing out of this man’s mouth, and this would be the exact kind of private joke he would make if he had actually mastered Time (capitalized) too. Also the context in which it’s said, talking about Harrow coming back from her coma, regaigning consciousness, awakening... you get it, oddly relevant theme wise.

then there’s the whole Soup Moment (Chapter 25, HtN), in which John seems to actually stop time maybe? i have doubts about this so lets see what our narrator tells us;

And God said, “Stop.”

The world slowed down. Augustine and Mercymorn stopped, arrested in the act of half-rising from their seats. Ianthe stopped, left arm paused, outflung, to shield her face. You stopped, sitting upright in your chair: your bones somehow rigid and still, and your flesh chilly and rigid around those bones. The shrapnel spray from the Saint of Duty did not stop, [...] But what remained of him stopped too, half man, half rupture—his prurient details hot and white, naked insides clothed with the sinus-drying burst of the power of God.

so here John freezes all the lyctors in place, they’re still conscious, or at least Harrow is, but they have their range of movement almost totally restricted. this is not like Mercy pinching Harrow’s dorsal nerve to paralyze her, this is a completely different feeling, maybe John’s thalergetic powers? it would make sense, all the lyctors are living bodies, they have thalergy and Johs is able to manipulate that, presumably. the bits of Gideon OG cascading down the table don’t stop but that might be John selectively using his powers, or it might be that that’s no longer living flesh.

so we’re saying this could just be John’s super special thalergy magic and nothing else. the first problem though is that technically he shouldn’t be able to use it against his lyctors without touching them, thanks to lyctoral invisibility. in fact when he explodes Mercy’s chest (rip in peace queen) he expressely reaches out and touches her to do so, because presumably he needs to make contact with a body in order to use magic against it, same as Mercy. so that’s a caveat, then there are these descriptions from the same Soup Moment;

You stared down the table at him: at the blank, remote faces of your two nominal teachers—at the frozen ivory stillness of Ianthe, her hair now whitish pink—at space outside the window, where the asteroids themselves seemed to hang in tranquilized arrest.

The Emperor of the Nine Houses stood. The spell, whatever it had been, dropped like a white sun setting.

These seem to imply certain ambiguity. John’s God and all that but i don’t think thalergetic magic should be able to affect asteroids, lifeless space rocks. of course it says they “seem” to hang in tranquilized arrest, not that they are really unmoving, but i think it’s a suggestive sentence all the same, and i’m suspicious of every word Muir writes. The second quote, specifically the highlighted part, is also a bit frustrating. It seems to imply that John isn’t exactly doing magic as we know it, but something else. If it was Harrow narrating we could go further with it, but since it’s Gideon we could simply attribute it to her lack of knowledge and familiarity with magic. However, two sentences after that we don’t have that problem;

The construct gamely clamberign our of the Saint of Duty dwindled to a powder of pink dust. The shard you had been driving up the cervical vertebrae to the base of the spine [...] simply disappeared: destroyed or removed, you could not tell.

This is still Gideon narrating but in this case she’s specifically telling us that Harrow doesn’t understand what John just did, it’s not magic Harrow is familiar with. There’s also the contrast between what we know is a normal process of destroying a construct - reducing it to dust - vs this mysterious disappearance, that doesn’t really fit into what we know so far about the way thanergy/thalergy work.

so far, nothing conclusive, we know John is really powerful, but we don’t know exactly how, where his power comes from or what it can do. Then there’s the moment he unexplodes himself (Chapter 52, HtN);

White light.

It bleached the insides of your nose and the back of your throat. It hurt coming out your ears. It bled out your eyeballs. It wasn’t a flash of light, more … a suddenness; when it was gone—as though it hadn’t even existed, but had been a luminous hallucination—time stopped.

That light took colour from the room—everyone was a slow-motion cavalcade of greys, of eyes caught widening, of mouths parting in stone-shaded articulations of shock.

It happened in an instant. It happened over a myriad. A wet red construct knitted itself back together, [...]

again that white light that has been associated with thalergy magic and again all these references to time slowing down, stopping or just behaving in strange ways in general. again lots of ambiguity, this could be a thalergy based power - the ability to hold living bodies in stasis, and therefore make everyone feel like time has slowed down - or it could be that John is actually affecting time, maybe even reversing it (?) since he literally un-exploded himself, after Mercy put all her millenia of expertise into atomizing him and reducing him to almost nothing.

is that even explicable with regular thanergy/thalergy based magic? i’m not sure, a regular necro could never do that, a lyctor couldn’t do that. So if John isn’t just an overpowered lyctor what’s the difference exactly? i mean, how do his powers manifest differently from those of every other necromancer we know?

the other person we’ve seen using powerful thalergy magic is Silas. Whenever he siphoned, Gideon describes a similar vacuum sensation to the one that John’s magic also provokes, as well as white light;

As he faded, the pale Silas incandesced. He glowed with an irradiated shimmer, iridescent white, and the air began to taste of thunder. (Chapter 17, GtN)

Gideon felt an internal tug, like a blanket being pulled off in the cold. (Chapter 17, GtN)

Silas clambered to his knees, clasped his fingers together, and the feeling of suction popped the pressure in both of Gideon’s ears. (Chapter 34, GtN)

Silas is nowhere near as powerful as John but siphoning - thalergy based magic, condemned by God - still causes that suction effect and is marked by white light and lightning, just like John’s magic. However, there’s no mention of a time altering effect, no slowing down, no freezing in place, and seeing how both kinds of magic are similarly coded otherwise i find this difference suspicious.

To end this somewhere, two quotes, first, this thing Harrow tells Ortus when they both discuss what it must be like to be a lyctor (Chapter 5, HtN);

“Nigenad, what would be the tragedy in living for a myriad? Ten thousand years to learn everything there is to know [...] What is the tragedy of time?”

honestly to me that sounds like Muir making Harrow say things she will regret later. of course it could be about any of the numerous tragedies in Harrow life but still, gave me pause, specially because it kinda echoes John’s earlier sentiment, wishing he had mastered Time.

finally, a quote that might be totally meaningless and completely off base in this theory or it could round it up perfectly, i haven’t decided yet;

[...] ; yet you prayed all the while knowing Ianthe’s facility for tergiversation would have given the whole universe pause. (Chapter 36, HtN)

we know Ianthe is a girlboss and gaslighting is her thing. However, isn’t this sentence a bit too dramatic to describe Ianthe? doesn’t it sound kinda ominous to you? it definitely does to me, and although it might totally be my Ianthe bias wanting her to play an important part, who is Ianthe hanging out with lately? exactly John God “Jod” the Emperor.

in conclusion, i haven’t reached any conclusion. but i still think there’s something off with John’s powers beyond what we’ve been told, which isn’t much really, and i think there’s something going on with Time within the narrative (that’s another whole post though), and i think these two things are most probably related. but i can’t say i’m 100% sure of any of it. this was fun though. if you made it here thank you so much you’re the best <3

#the intermitent use of capitalization throughtout this wole thing...#this is really very long. if you read it and have any thought whatsoever about it please do share i'd love to hear them #htn spoilers #harrow the ninth spoilers #the locked tomb #meta commentary

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iceeckos12 · 3 years ago

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and he sees dawn before the rest of the world

or: a fucked up little au of 200. intended to be unsettling so just be warned warnings for: unreality (i think that’s the appropriate term? please lmk if not), implied self harm, fucked up relationship dynamics; lmk if i should tag anything else

Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!

“Ugh, five more minutes,” Martin hissed, throwing an arm across his face, as though he could stop the barrage of sound just by covering his eyes. His alarm was unsympathetic to his whinging, continuing to scream its daily mourning dirge, grieving the end of another period of blessed rest. “Fine, fine! I’m getting up, christ…”

He reached clumsily for the phone on his bedside table, only for his fingers to scrabble uselessly around the ghost of its presence. He was momentarily so stymied by the absence that it took him longer than it should’ve to remember that he’d moved it to his desk, to prevent him from giving into the temptation to hit the snooze button just one more time.

Letting out another slew of curses, Martin shuffled onto his other side and reached for

A jaw-cracking yawn near split Martin’s face in two as he hunched over the gleaming tea kettle, steam beginning to pour from the spout. He shuffled his feet, eyes meandering sightlessly over the cow-shaped mug drying on the counter, the cluster of crumbs that he must’ve missed when cleaning up after dinner last night.

He hated mornings. Maybe it was the preemptive dread he felt at the thought of going to work; maybe it was because he hated having to be upright this early in the morning. Either way, he felt strangely disconnected from his morning routine, each motion carried out with habitual, distant efficiency as his thoughts raced along like a hamster on a wheel just below the surface.

It...was a bit silly for him to be worried about work, though. The stuff he was doing was interesting, and he had the loveliest coworkers a guy could ask for. They’d even offered to teach him a thing or two about artifact restoration once they learned the truth about his CV.

He drew himself up to his full height and rolled his shoulders back, clouded sigh mingling with the fog from the boiling water. Things were going well. Hell, he was actually going to get top surgery sometime in the next year or so, which was amazing considering his teenage self would’ve laughed at the very idea of being out.

There was no reason to dread going to work.

Martin carefully poured the water into the mug, letting the tea steep before adding a splash of milk and sugar. When he picked the mug up, the heat from the tea had bled into the ceramic, so warm as to be uncomfortable against the delicate skin of his palms. He didn’t let go, just kept on gripping the mug, like trying to contain the last gasp of a dying star.

Martin stared around his kitchen. The waterstains on the inside of the cow mug slowly evaporating into the still air; the crumbs that had sat there for who knows how long. The empty, blank face of his fridge.

Martin lifted the mug, and steam collected on his glasses as his breath wafted over the surface of the tea. He drew away, waiting for the lenses to clear, before leaning in for another sip.

His reflection stared back at him, a monochrome facsimile of his face rimmed in white smoke, and he recoiled, the mug slipping from

Working nine to five, what a way to make a living…

Martin stared out the window, his hand pillowed in the palm of his hand as Dolly Parton crooned in his ears. Split second by split second, he let his eyes catch on a point in the darkened surroundings, only letting his vision blur into incoherence when that fixed point whipped out of sight. It was a game he sometimes played when he got bored of reading or playing cards on his phone.

The old woman across from him let out a quiet grunt and shuffled, drawing his attention back inside the train. She was a gnarled old thing, bowed by the gravity of grief and time and life, though Martin couldn’t say for certain whether it was one well-lived.

Barely getting by, it’s all taking and no giving...

That was the thing about people watching: Martin was never quite sure if it was disrespectful to make assumptions about a person’s life based on a passing glimpse. He could never be sure if the person with the grumpy expression had a foul attitude, or if they were just a kind person on the tail-end of a truly awful day.

The old woman was knitting though, and Martin generally found it safe to assume that knitters were nice people.

For a moment he thought about taking out his headphones and striking up a conversation; the pattern looked devilishly complicated, and as a beginning knitter, he always appreciated tips. There was an unfinished set of fingerless green gloves in the back of his closet; it was easy for hands to get cold in the Archives, and the color suited

“Alright, Martin?”

Martin startled, his pen clattering to the floor. He looked up to find Sasha perched on the edge of his desk, grinning like the cat who’d just eaten the canary. Or, he thought she was. His eyes kept skittering from one corner of her face to the other, like a smooth stone skipping across a lake.

“Uh…” Frowning slightly, he let his gaze travel over the shelves of books, the humming lights, his cluttered workstation. He removed his glasses so he could rub at his aching eyes, and let out a deep sigh. Probably just the stress. “Yeah—yeah! Sorry, I’ve been distracted all morning.”

Martin got the impression of Sasha’s grin being tempered with genuine concern. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is everything okay?”

“I think so. Just...work, and my mum…” he gave an expansive you know sort of gesture at life in general. “Thank god the weekend’s coming. Anyway, is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come get drinks with Mel and Tim and I after work, but…” She cut him a meaningful glance, the bottomless holes where her eyes should be boring bright spotlights into the back of his skull. “We’d understand if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“Is Georgie coming?”

Sasha shrugged. “Probably. Mel didn’t say so, but they’ve been all over each other since they started dating.”

Martin laughed. “True.” Tried to gauge how he was feeling, whether or not he was up to a night of socializing. You should go, a strangely posh little voice murmured in the back of his head, and he found himself saying, “Actually yeah, I would like to come. I could use a night out.”

Sasha clapped him on the shoulder, and the impact rattled through him like a gong being struck. The echoes of it vibrated all the way down to his toes. “Excellent.”

Martin hesitated, and then, not entirely sure of what he was asking, “What about J

“Thanks for waiting with us,” Georgie said, smiling beatifically up at him. Passed out on her shoulder, Melanie let out a drunken snuffle and curled over, like she was thinking of climbing through the spaces of Georgie’s ribcage and sleeping in her chest cavity forever.

“Not a problem,” Martin replied, scratching the back of his neck.

To be honest, waiting with her was as much for his benefit as theirs. At first, he’d thought it was just stress; now, he was very sure that something was wrong. It wasn’t anything specific, or even bad; more like there was a sepia camera filter tinting the world dusty and nostalgic.

After his third drink, he’d looked into Tim’s laughing face and thought he might burst into tears. And he still didn’t know what Sasha was supposed to look like.

But he didn’t want to worry her, so he just bit his lip and rocked back and forth on his heels, even though the motion made his head spin that much worse.

(Maybe he needed to take a couple of days off. Have a lie-in. But that would—that would delay his work. The Institute’s work. Delays were bad; he felt strongly enough about that to carve it directly into his skin so that he’d never forget. He could roll down his sleeve and take a peek at it whenever his motivation slipped, like checking a watch for the time.)

For lack of anything else to say, he nodded toward Melanie. “She’s really out, huh?”

“She’s always been a lightweight.” Her tone was wry, but her eyes were soft and fond as she brushed Melanie’s bangs back from her face. “Never gets hungover though, the lucky bastard.”

“The nerve!” Martin said, affecting offense, which sent them right into another giggling fit.

Once he got his breath back, Martin mentioned offhand, “You know, considering how similar they are, I’m surprised that her and J̷̧̱̜͕͕̤͉̣̺̺̝͖̠̹̜͙̣͉̩̺̤̟͉͓̞̹̗́̆̂̋͆̊̎́͂̑͋̌͊͘̚͠ͅo̶̧̨͕̖͔̬̖̝̪͚̻̟̠̜̣̰̅n̶̥̉́̎͑̀͂͆̿̾͛̾̔̐͌́̅̂͂̒̆̐́͊̄̾̍̅̅͝

“Stop it!” Martin screamed, grabbing the mug from the counter and throwing it across the room. It shattered against the wall, scattering shards of ceramic across the floor. “I know

“What you’re doing,” Martin gripped the bathroom counter, ignoring the persistent ringing of his alarm, staring deeply into his reflection, “Stop it, stop it, nononon̴̡̡͚̮̠͙̻͔͎͈̜̓̈́̈́͜͜ͅǫ̸̯̠̱̖̲͙͍͎͒̇̑͒ṅ̶̨̩̳̩̝̹̳͎͈̬̦͆́̈́́͐̏̈́̕͝͝o̸̡̻̱̗̥̮̙̳̞͗̄͋̈́̀͝n̸̢̛̟͙̘̱̩͕̦̫̤̮͆͑̊͋́̂̽͜o̶̘̱̗̘̘͑̿͜ņ̶̥̞̠͕͓̠͔͚̮͈̬͕̀͗̄̓͑͑͛̕ͅő̸̮̫̓͌̾̌͋́̂̏̒̃̃̄̚n̵̗̫͕̺̻͔̭͖̉͒͗̀̈́̃̅o̴͓͉͉͗͋̎̕—”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m sorry, it’s okay—”

“No!” Martin shrieked, shoving Jon’s hands away, skittering backward across the broken and cracked stones of the Panopticon. Through the arched windows, the sky was a poisonous green and black, and multitudes of eyes orbited the room, watched his every movement with sickening fascination. “Just—stop.”

Luminous gaze weary and resigned, Jon did as he was bid, dropping back onto his heels.

Rubbing sweat and grime and tears from his face, breathing harshly through his mouth, Martin took a moment to remember where he was, why he was here. It always took a moment for everything to come back.

As though unable to keep silent any longer, Jon asked, “So what was it this time?”

“Don’t,” Martin hissed, dragging his hands through his greasy hair.

Though his expression went mulishly annoyed, Jon raised his hands placatingly, a silent, alright, you win. It was a familiar gesture, one that he’d done so many times while they were living in Scotland, while they were traveling the devastated landscape of the apocalypse. It made Martin ache for when things were simpler, when his heart didn’t just feel like one big bruise.

He gently set the thought aside, and turned a more assessing eye on the Panopticon. Normally the changes were insignificant, but something thick and red and black had started to coil around the windows, weaving in and out of the floor, cracking the stonework. Martin traced the strange things with his eyes, frowning—

“Christ, Jon,” he whispered in horrified realization. “Are...are those corpse roots?”

Jon bobbed his head. “They’ve long since overtaken the rest of London. It’s just us, now.”

Martin sucked in a long, frustrated breath through his teeth. There was no point trying to talk any sense into Jon, not after so long, and force would only result in immediately getting kicked back into that horrible dream world.

“And the others?”

Jon shrugged, tracing the cracks in the earth with his fingers. “Still alive, and living happily in the dream I made for them.” He didn’t say, unlike you, but the implication was so loud he might as well have screamed it.

“Shut up,” Martin muttered, pushing to his feet and limping to one of the windows.

Corpse roots, as far as the eye could see. They covered the city of London in a blanket of tangled black, so thick that it was impossible to see the buildings beneath.

“Was it worth it?” he asked, sagging against the side of the window, too tired to be angry.

When the silence persisted a second too long, Martin turned around to find Jon with his head tilted back, examining the corpse roots consuming what had once been the Beholding’s seat of power, expression distant and thoughtful. The eyes, ever-watching, never understanding, drifted closer, greedily drinking in the sight.

When Martin realized that Jon wasn’t planning on answering, he let out another sigh, ruffled his bangs away from his face, and said, “You’re never there.”

Jon’s gaze snapped to him with a laser-edged focus. “Sorry?”

“If you’re going to trap me in a dream,” Martin said, each syllable clipped and precise, “You could at least be there.”

Like it always did, Jon’s face crumpled, and he looked away. “...I don’t deserve it.”

“Oh, we’re well past that and you know it!” Martin shrieked, striking his fist against the stone. “You made your fucking decision to damn the world, to hell with whatever we thought, the least you could do is stop hiding behind your pointless guilt and act like this is what you actually want!”

It would’ve been better, if Jon had simply become drunk with power and was no longer listening to reason. The fact that he’d made this same decision every single day with clear, unclouded eyes and sound judgement—as Jon the human, rather than Jon the lynchpin of the apocalypse, pupil of the Eye—made Martin want to scream.

“I do want it!” Jon snapped back, then quieter, “I do.” He looked up at the corpse roots again, eyes going misty. “I just—I should witness every second of misery and pain that I’m causing. I don’t deserve to just...forget.”

Wind snapped and howled around them like a creature mad with rage, and Martin idly wondered what would happen to this world once Jon died. If it would all go back to the way it had been before, or if the shell of the apocalypse would remain until the end of time, a corpse husk of a reality warped beyond repair.

“You shouldn’t have to experience this alongside me though,” Jon continued, rallying. “So I would really appreciate it if you’d stop breaking your dreams.”

“Tough,” Martin snapped back, folding his arms obstinately over his chest.

“You could be happy!” Jon reiterated, stabbing his index finger into the palm of his hand. “You could just...live your life! Forget! There’s no point in being here.”

“It’s a deal, remember? Where you go, I go. Fuck you very much, but I don’t break my promises.”

Jon stared at him for one beat, then another—and then promptly burst out laughing, his whole body shaking with the force of it. Martin stared at him, utterly bewildered, as the laughing slowly began to dissolve into desperate, heaving sobs, as he began rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around himself in a mockery of comfort.

“I miss you,” Jon gasped out, half-crazed. “So much. I miss you every day even though you’re right in front of me. But I can’t go to you, because I don’t deserve to, not when I’m the one who trapped you here. I’m everything that’s wrong with the world. I always have been.”

“Jon,” Martin sighed, low and tired.

Jon buried his face into his knees. “No, you shouldn’t—you shouldn’t forgive me just because you pity me, that’s not what I—I don’t—”

“Who said anything about forgiveness?” Martin shook his head. “Fine. You’re an asshole, and I hate you. But it’s like I said.” He gestured toward the Panopticon, the roots, the poisonous sky. “When has deserving ever mattered?”

Jon lifted his face from his knees, though his gaze stayed rooted to the floor. “...I suppose.”

“Right,” Martin agreed. “I’ve accepted that you’re not going to change your mind, but...at the very least, I don’t want to die alone. So can you please just…”

There was a long, weighted pause.

They’d had arguments like this what felt like hundreds of times before. Martin begging for Jon to change his mind, Jon refusing with that same resigned, determined expression on his face, before sending Martin back into his dreams.

Maybe it was because Martin wasn’t asking him to change his mind this time. Maybe it was because they were so close to the end of all things, and soon they’d be the last two people on earth. Maybe it was because Jon was tired, had been for so, so long, and he had won anyway, so there was no point in fighting any longer.

“Alright,” Jon whispered.

…

...

Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!

“Ugh, five more minutes,” Martin hissed, throwing an arm across his face.

Somewhere in the far distance, the toilet flushed. A moment later, a pair of feet padded lightly into the room, hesitated at the edge of the bed, and then made their way over to the desk. The alarm abruptly went silent.

Martin uncovered his eyes and grinned up at Jon as he tentatively slid back between the covers, every movement careful and deliberate, like he was reading stage directions from a script.

“Look at Mr. Workaholic, having a lie-in,” Martin teased, pulling Jon into his arms and inhaling the scent of his coconut shampoo. “Must be the end of the world, or something.”

Jon stiffened for just a moment, before turning around and burying his face into Martin’s chest. “Or something.”

#iceeckos12 writes #my writing #tma #jonmartin but make it especially tragedy flavored

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sizeshiftingdeath · 3 years ago

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Ends and Starts (MCYT G/T Exchange!)

Hello there sizeshiftingdeath! I received your prompts for the gift exchange, and while I tried to start pretty close to your prompt, my ideas kind of spiraled out of control, I hope you don't mind ^^' I can make something else with another prompt if it doesn't fit what you were hoping for, though! There's also a little bit of extra information down the bottom with some stuff I thought of about the au I accidentally made.

Prompt given: ‘A human caught in the rain finds a giant in the forest’

The world is pockmarked with evidence of the tragedies of the past. Of warped land that paints the horrors that befell things that came before. The living reminders of them continue to live on in perpetuity, as immortal creatures that were wreathed in the horrors that life on Earth had endured in the past.

Bask in their horrible might.

There is the Death from Burning and Fire and Falling from the Sky and Cold Choking Death, the End of the Cretaceous. A massive beast, the bloody end of an era of enormous fauna. A destruction made all the more powerful by how quickly it was achieved. It stalks the land and sea and, where it steps, the plants die of lack of sunlight and the ground turns to tar.

There is the Death from Ever Hunting and Chasing and Too Warm Too Bright - Tech, the man-shaped leviathan, death in the shape of something familiar to mankind, the Killer of the Pleistocene. The death of great megafauna in an icy world from the encroaching warmth of a new era, the sharp point of a spear. It hunts the world with spears and arrows of fire and, in the depths of its nest, all water has turned to vapor and the earth itself has become a wasteland.

There is the Death of Falling Frozen Seas, of a primordial sea strangled to death under a glacier lock, Her Lady of the primaeval oceans, the Death of the Ordovician. The tail-end of an explosion of life, stretched too far by their own hubris. And yet, despite being a beast with a hundred trilobite and eurypterid faces, one that has a herald in the form of a human by Her side, for reasons that have yet to become known. Maybe, just like every other esoteric thing that such beasts may do, it shall remain a mystery forever.

Look and see. A new immortal is emerging from its eggshell of tragedy. The unstoppable bomb and burning oilfield. The death through hubris and a slow choking unraveling of your very being. The death of man from crackling radiation and tainted iridescent-film water and ash filled smoke. The destruction of the Anthropocene.

Except. This is a creature who was born prematurely. Because man is not dead nor feeling its own final throes. It was not born wreathed in the screams of the damned, only the fears held in the hearts of the still-living. It is naïve and curious and did not yet have the star of a hundred million species’ souls to power it yet. It was stunted.

And that is why the first human the newest apocalypse met was so important.

…

The forests are deep and dark. Quiet yet shivering with life. Constantly moving and yet trapped in some space between time. Most of all, they expected nothing more from you than for your own two legs to be able to travel. Ranboo liked that.

It certainly was nicer than what he had to deal with outside of the forest at least. Here he could continue walking and listening and breathing for as long as he still could move forward. This forest in particular was a favorite, with a constant twilight quality to it that played into its timelessness.

He stumbled over a log, slipping slightly on the slick moss, and focused as strongly as he could on his surroundings. It was hard when he could so quickly slip into his thoughts. He needed to enjoy his surroundings. He needed to stay in the present and not phase out like fog.

Ironically, it was his attempts to ground himself that prevented him from noticing what was slowly growing more wrong in the forest around him. The scent of ash in the air. The lack of birdsong or rustle of leaves. The trees, growing darker and more burnt-looking, and the dead logs that were bristling with fungi.

But when he stepped out into a clearing with an enormous rock embedded into the middle of it, Ranboo really couldn’t help but realize all of the discrepancies. The illusion of an eternal twilight had been broken with the red light that streamed down. The ground was distressingly clear of ground cover, instead dusted with ash.

Forest fire? He hadn’t heard of any in the area but… What else would it be?

Ranboo looked up at the sun, which had meandered towards the west since he had entered the forest. There were dark clouds gathering above him in worrying amounts, and the air was a little hard to see through with the particles suspended in it. He frowned at it.

Something was wrong here, he could sense it in a deeply animalistic kind of way. As if there was something screaming in his hindbrain to run.

He didn’t run. This was the forest that he has walked a hundred times before, when did this happen? Why had this happened? He needed to find out.

Overhead, thunder rumbled. A droplet of curiously dark water fell on his face.

Ranboo stepped towards the other side of the forest clearing that should not have been there.

And that's when a living embodiment of a mass extinction came shambling out of the ashen trees.

Ranboo didn’t know which detail he noticed first about this rogue apocalypse beast. Was it the limp brown hair that was almost black with iridescent oil slick? Was it the enormous horns that curled jutting from its face and looked more like scrap metal than keratin? Was it the uranium-glass green stripes that criss-crossed like cracks in ceramic along it’s skin?

Or was it the fact that this one was shaped like a man?

The apocalypse beasts always most resembled the myriad that had died in their creation. The death of the Ice Age looks vaguely like a man, if squinted at, mostly because so many cousins to humanity had died in its formation. It was more like an enormous boar-beast on two legs that had the arms of a man, if anything. This one did not look remotely like the death of the Ice Age.

Ranboo took a flying leap from horror and realization to hysteria. This is the death of humans. The death by nuclear bombs and smoke and oil. The fabled next apocalypse beast, the bringer of the end of the world, was already here.

For a moment of absolute blinding terror he wondered if this meant that all other humans on Earth were dead now. That today was the day the entirety of humanity died, leaving just him wandering the forest endlessly. That nuclear armageddon occurred and he was out there worried about keeping himself grounded enough to admire the birds.

The beast - and he was never in doubt that this was an apocalypse beast, even if he had never seen any of the others in person before something shook like a leaf in his soul simply from being near it - loomed over him. It watched him like a bug under a glass with nuclear hazard yellow-and-black eyes, and the spell of frozen muscles snapped in Ranboo. He bolted towards the boulder in the middle of the clearing and pushed his way into a space between it and a smaller boulder at its base, scrambling to find a smaller crack to squeeze himself into to just get himself out of reach of the beast, of the black water, of everything.

He could hear a rasping, clicking-crackling sound. (A Geiger Counter.) He could see glowing green-striped fingers reach under the edges of the rock he had wedged himself under. Could see, in the sickly chartreuse light they cast, fingernails larger than his head catch the rock. Felt the weight of the boulder lift from his back.

Ranboo was left crouching and shaking, so scared he couldn't breathe (or maybe it was the ash or the slimy water that couldn’t be rain), as the apocalypse beast crouched down further. It crackled and clicked with a mouth that seemed all too human to be able to make those noises, and then it. Crooned? With a voice that was more like a siren shriek turned down, weirdly echoey as if speaking from far away, it clicked and whined and Ranboo was so confused he didn’t even see the hand reach down and pick him up by the back of his shirt.

He screamed and flailed, imagination jumping into overdrive about what horrifying things the beast could do, and just as quickly, he was dropped with a whoomph to the ground and the death of Mankind jerked back. Ranboo gasped and sputtered as half of face got thoroughly soaked with ash-water mud, and hoisted himself up again to get away from the apocalypse beast.

Who was crouching over him, luminous trefoil eyes barely a foot away from his own, still crooning that awful siren tone. From this close Ranboo could faintly see radiation burns pockmarking its skin, and a horrible scar of curled and ridged skin along its face, as if it was victim to a close-range bomb explosion.

It tilted its head, leaning a tiny bit closer, and Ranboo threw his arms up to cover his face. God, it itched where the ash water had splashed on him. Why was it itching so much?

The death of Mankind stopped again, looking up into the sky and then down at Ranboo again. It seemed to come to a conclusion, because it then slowly - oh so slowly, why was it being careful? - cupped its hands out in front of it and held them out to him.

It… Wanted him to climb on. Into the grasp of a literal specter of death specifically designed with the destruction of his own species in mind.

Ranboo, in a moment of blind panic and stupidity, climbed on. It looked polite, he reasoned. He was already going to die just from being close to this thing.

It continued to… yes, it definitely was cooing now, in that horrifying voice, and for a moment Ranboo wondered if maybe he misinterpreted. Maybe this thing wasn’t meant to represent the nuclear apocalypse.

His eye had started to itch where the water touched it. He rocked himself in the grasp of this giant, feeling footholds in the craggy radiation-worn skin, and felt the side of his face.

The moment e touched it, a white-hot flash of horrible burning pain hit him like a truck, knocking him into a stupor of yelling. It was as if his face was burning, was twisting and gnarling just as much as the apocalypse beast’s horns did. Under his hand, stiff with pain and unable to move away, he could feel skin slough off, could feel the cells themselves die off in droves, in response to whatever radiation or toxin was in the ash-water.

He couldn’t even register the sensation of fingers larger than his torso curling around him and holding him steady, of him being pressed up against a vast chest that beat unsteadily like a stuck clock, of the vast thumps of footfalls against a diseased forest floor.

All he could feel is pain, burning coiling tunneling pain that tried to tear out his face, his hands, his neck, burning him bright and radiant like a star.

…

The creature was screaming in its hands. It hadn’t stopped screaming for a long time.

It was small and writhing and melting. Creatures usually didn’t like melting.

The death of Humanity wasn’t sure how to make it stop. It had dashed out of the black-rain (that seemed to make the melting worse, maybe it’ll stop once it’s out of the rain?) to its home cave, hoping that perhaps it could figure something out in the comfort of its own home.

The creature’s screams had died down, though whether it was from its pain being alleviated or their voice giving out, the death of Humanity couldn’t tell. All it could tell was that it wasn’t getting up, wasn’t looking at it with those wide curious scared-but-interested eyes.

Most animals ran from the death of Humanity. Land-creatures would yell in fear and flee, birds would rise up into the sky in huge swarms only to be struck down by the black-rain. Even insects would twitch and die when they got near, which led so many to flee this part of the forest entirely. It was a lonely existence. But this human hadn’t run like the other animals had. It had hid, yes, but it had viewed the death of Humanity in all of its glory and it almost, almost, was ok with it being picked up.

And then something had happened and now the human was dying just like all of the other animals and the Nuclear Apocalypse didn’t know what to do.

Be well. Be alright. Be just like you were before, it thought, delicately laying the twitching human on the ground out of reach of the dripping black-water puddles, in a nest of dried grasses and leaves that had swept into the cave over the years. It prodded the human with a finger, whining softly when all it did was spasm like a dying insect. It wasn’t dying, right? It was just hurt? It couldn’t be hurt, the death of Humanity wouldn’t allow it. Not when it was so curious and didn’t flee like the others. Not when the death of Humanity had a chance to learn from it. Even now, writhing in its palm, it could feel the frantic beating of life and warmth, things it had so rarely seen before.

You will be well. You must be well. I will make you well.

...

When he came to, it was to complete darkness.

Well, no. Not totally. There was a faint glimmer of far away light somewhere to his left. A shuffling shadow, a faint sickly green glow.

His right was totally dark though, and he couldn’t quite open his eye. He almost brought his hand up to touch it before violently flinching as he remembered what had landed him here in the first place. Would it start burning and melting horribly like it did before? That he was even awake to wonder that is a miracle in of itself... Or the start of the second round of his torture.

Horrible curiosity pushed him to touch, as lightly as possible, the skin on his right cheek. It… He couldn’t feel it. Or rather, he could feel the sandpaper surface of extremely rough skin, but he couldn't feel the pressure, the burning bright pain. The entire area was dead to the touch.

Ranboo threw himself as upright as he could make himself, which ended up only being a half kneel before falling back over into a sit. His breath hitched and he felt his face more firmly, the rough scratchy surface of skin that splattered like paint over the right side of his face, over his eye, down his neck and onto his arm. The muted tingling where it met smoother skin along his shoulder and the bridge of his nose. In an act of desperation he even poked at his eyelid, trying to pry it open to see if he could ever see from that eye again.

His hand passed in front of his working eye in that moment, and at this point his focus had sharpened enough to make out vague colors in the dim light. His hand… It was a black far darker than any human could naturally produce, with a grey-green cast that made him look sickly.

I feel sickly, he reasoned to himself. What is going on? He waved his hand a little frantically, as if the new midnight shade was something that was just stuck to his skin. Desperately he held up his other (totally numb to the touch) hand, hoping it hadn’t changed too.

Well, good news - it wasn’t midnight black.

Bad news - it was a shade so pale that it looked totally devoid of blood. And the raspy surface he could feel didn’t look any prettier to the eye. It didn’t have that same grey-green tint to it though, which was nice, because it would’ve shown up really well on this pure white canvas.

Why was he even thinking about looks right now? He was in the den of an Apocalypse Beast Ranboo get your head together! This was absolutely not the right time to space out - he needed to stay in the moment!

His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he tried to get himself upright. He had only just gotten himself steady when he felt the rattle of large footsteps shake through the ground. Before Ranboo could even think to run though, the shadows out of the corner of his eyes resolved into the beast, which made its way all too quickly towards him.

He couldn’t run if he wanted to. And besides, the damage done to him would probably kill him. He was on borrowed time as is. What did he have left to do but to see what the beast did?

It slowed as it came closer, reaching out a vast clawed hand towards him. Despite his resignation towards his fate, Ranboo flinched back as it came way too close way too fast. A movement that the beast obviously didn't notice or interpret or care about, because he was scooped up into its palm without a moment's hesitation.

“No!” He yelled, wriggling and pushing away from the cage of fingers around him. The beast paused in bringing him up to its face, and if Ranboo was being generous he could call the look on its face a frown.

In less than a blink the face of the beast was so close way too close and he almost punched it (for all the help that would do) out of reflex. It blinked at him with those lucent yellow-black eyes, laser sharp in their focus upon him. He felt for all the world like an ant being peered at through a magnifying glass. Maybe he’ll be fried like one too.

“What do you want with me?” He asked, voice cracking in fear. “What is it you want?”

It didn’t answer in that siren tone again, but instead shifted its weight to the side and turned its palms so that Ranboo was standing squarely in one of them. The other was drawn up and one sharp-clawed finger was pointed at Ranboo. Or, well. The side of Ranboo’s face that he couldn’t see from just yet.

He trembled with the anticipation of the jagged nail at the end of the beast’s outstretched finger spearing forward. But all it did was touch, very gently, under the damaged eye. The beast frowned even more.

Then it jabbed at him, hard enough to bruise but not much else, directly into Ranboo’s damaged eye. He yelped and jumped away, tumbling off his feet in the cup of the beast’s fingers and slapped a numb hand over numb face. Even if he couldn’t feel the area, it still surprised him enough to believe for a moment he could sense it again. Except… was that still his imagination? The eye under his pale skin was starting to itch and water, the first sensation he felt from it since he had woken up, and with a gasp he was able to open his eye.

Fuzz. That’s all he could see from that eye. The beast leaned forward and poked at his face again, softer this time, and when he opened his eye again the world had snapped into focus, tinged with red around the edges. He blinked a few times, and felt a trail of something wet leak from that eye onto his cheek.

What had happened? “You… You healed me?” He asked up at it. It was still frowning even as he had two working eyes again, and muttered softly in a voice that sounded like something crumbling into splinters. Then it poked him for a third time, this time on the shoulder, and Ranboo held back a yell of pain as the area lit up in a blaze of sensation that felt like liquid fire. As he watched, the black skin around the edges of the wound cracked and veins of bright green glowed beneath.

Just… Like… The beast…

Oh no.

The pain of his nerves coming back to life was nothing when compared to the cold horror that had bubbled into his stomach. There was a single case of a human managing to gain immortality as a result of an apocalypse beast. One of the first beasts, Her Lady of the Primordial Sea, the beast of the Ordivician extinction, had taken pity upon an ancient human who was trapped in the glacial ices that herald her path across the Earth, and had gifted it with immortality and a pair of wings that made him as beastly as the Lady he served.

Nobody knew exactly why the Angel of the Deaths had been spared, and why not a single human had ever had that happen before or since. All that was really known about him was his violence, and that he had an uncanny ability to be where an apocalypse beast would be travelling to next. He was just as inhuman and alien as the beasts themselves, if in a smaller form.

It had only ever happened once. Until now, obviously.

Ranboo stared at his white hand, prickling with waking nerves under the surface and twisting with green strands that trailed under his skin like angry snakes, and knew that he was a monster now. Somehow, it was freeing. Like he finally got an answer to a question he had asked over and over. Why him, why now, why is he still alive, why is he not afraid enough…

He stared back up at the apocalypse beast and it blinked down at him. It was no longer frowning, only looking thoughtfully now. “You’re not going to hurt me.” It wasn’t a question.

It reached a hand back up, maybe to poke him again, but this time rubbed his hair very lightly. He did not flinch this time, steeling up his willpower to allow this touch (It won’t hurt him. He needs to keep repeating it until it is true. It won’t hurt him. He was its now it wouldn’t hurt him).

It made that soft crooning noise again, like it had before lifting the rock he had been hiding under, and despite it being underlaid with sounds specifically designed to inspire fear in humans, he could find himself getting used to it. (Would have to. He’s an abomination now after all. The second angel.)

“You’re not so bad, are you…” He slowly pushed himself to his feet, flexing his newly sensated hand carefully. “I still don’t know what you are or why you are here now but…”

The beast tipped its head curiously and warbled exactly the same words back at Ranboo. He froze, because it was so much like his own voice except under deep layers of static, before shaking his head. Best get introductions out of the way - this creature was obviously smart. It was the death of Humanity after all.

He pointed to his chest. “Ranboo.” He gave it a few pokes for emphasis, and the beast poked him too before mimicking his name. He wasn’t entirely sure it actually got what that meant but, well. Baby steps.

Then he pointed at it. It blinked a few times (and Ranboo really couldn’t help but anthropomorphize its reactions - this thing was just too uncannily human to not) and chirped out another ‘Ranboo.’ He gestured more firmly, pointing at the beast.

It continued to look with (probably) bafflement for a few moments, before letting loose a cacophony of sounds that sent Ranboo’s hands slapping over his ears. It was all of the sounds of falling trees, of squawking birds, of the blazing sun and frigid cold and most of all the explosive fire and cold falling ash-water and death from sickness. It was everything and more that wrapped up the death of Humanity in a nutshell.

Ranboo blinked. That might take a while to learn how to pronounce.

He decided to call it Tubbo for short.

<End> There we have it! I hope that you enjoyed this - I hope it didn't betray too much how much stuff like this interests me and that this was potentially also 3000 words of me nerding out about mass extinctions.

Anyways, here's some details I had added but had no way of explaining naturally within the story that i was a little proud of ^^'

The Anthropocene apocalypse beast is also called the unstoppable bomb and burning oilfield. Shortened to TUBBO. Ha.

There’s 7, now 8 apocalypse beasts (Great Oxidation Event, Ordovician, Devonian, Permian, Triassic, Cretaceous, Pleistocene, and now Anthropocene). I originally intended there to just be 5 (for the big five mass extinctions) and then a 6th Anthropocene apocalypse beast, but then I thought I really should add in the great oxidation event that almost caused extinction of all non-oxygen breathing creatures on a very early earth, and the death of most megafauna in the Pleistocene era.

Society is way different with these living eldritch abominations just shambling across the globe, causing a trail of destruction behind them. A lot less large cities, for one.

The Ordovician apocalypse beast is Kristin, yes. She’s uplifted Phil into something similar to what Ranboo is now. I kinda want to think more about her and her story with Phil.

The Pleistocene apocalypse beast is Techno. Idk why I chose to do that but it seemed to fit. Especially since the leading theory on Pleistocene megafauna death is humans hunting them, which I think fits Techno pretty well

The rain is black rain - rain full of radioactive fallout. Bad Stuff, definitely not what you should seek out if you want to keep your body in working order.

I kept referring to sirens in Tubbo’s speech. Just imagine every emergency warning broadcast sound except even more terrifying

So Ranboo’s skin is majorly fucked up. For one, he’s suffered major radiation damage to the side that is now white (healed over brand new skin). The black half is much more interesting though. Did you know there are types of fungi that can feed off of nuclear radiation? They protect themselves from the effects by secreting a LOAD of melanin, making them extremely dark. Anything that wasn’t newly healed on Ranboo had now become akin to those fungi now. Feeding rather than harmed by the nuclear radiation Tubbo naturally puts off. Perfect for a newborn Angel of the deaths.

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Thank you so much for this story submission!! I really love this idea and how well you wrote it! this is so amazing! ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

#submission #mcyt g/t exchange event #mcyt #g/t

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moonprlsm · 4 years ago

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like waves, you pulled me in.

also on ao3

"Eat up, lovely."

This had to be a dream. With how her head was throbbing or the way every corner of the room looked a tad bit blurry, there was a huge probability that Lumine was either dreaming or completely losing it. Yes, perhaps it was just the latter, which was why she was having hallucinations of Childe, eleventh harbinger of the fatui, wearing an apron in her room.

She blinked at him twice.

"Still sleepy, huh? Should I give you a kiss to wake you up?"

Great. The Childe in her hallucination was as punchable as the real one.

Her eyes dropped to the bowl of Adeptus Temptation he placed on her bed, the savory aroma of fresh seafood and spices hitting her nose, making her mouth water. It looked as if it belonged to Xiangling's best dishes and if Lumine's mind wasn't such in a haze, she would've gulped the whole thing in one go.

There was just no way the man sitting in front of her, firstly, was really here and secondly, was the one who made the appetizing stew just as he claimed.

She gave her legs under the blanket a pinch.

The sting made her bite her lip.

Archons, this was real. She wasn't sure if that was to her liking or not.

"If you stare at that for too long it might get shy and run off."

"What exactly are you doing here, Childe?" She almost didn't recognize her own voice from how dry it sounded.

"Way to treat your awesome nurse for today, lovely." He said teasingly as he moved to the near table to pour some water. "Here."

She took the glass in his hand. Ignoring the beat her heart skipped as her hands brushed with his warm ones, she finished the whole glass in a couple of gulps. Lukewarm water slid through her throat with ease. Never in her life had she thought of missing the non existent taste of water.

"Good?" He sat by her again, closer this time.

"Yes, thank you. But you didn't answer my question."

He let out a chuckle, grabbing back the glass in her hands. "I'm here to take care of you, obviously."

"What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine." A throb in her head went a little harder than normal, almost making her wince.

"Oh? So why did you pass out near a waypoint earlier then?"

"I–"

So that was what happened. Just moments ago, she woke up to the warmth of her bed in the Inn she was staying at in Liyue. She was supposed to meet Childe for their weekly sparring sessions after her long... mission. Lumine couldn't really remember traveling to said Inn.

The last thing she could call to mind was an image of blue eyes filled with worry, accompanied by an alarmed voice calling out her name and the feeling of strong, lean arms lifting her from the ground with ease.

Lucky for her she was already burning up or else he would've noticed the tint of pink growing on her cheeks.

"Don't worry, lovely–" The nickname didn't help her either. "I called a doctor to check on you earlier, said you just have a common cold. The fainting was probably caused by stress or lack of sleep– Hey, what are you doing?"

Lumine tried to move the bed table so she could free her feet from the blanket. "Going to do my mission." She shivered once a leg was out. It was peak noon.

The bastard cleared his throat after accidentally letting out a snort. "You're not going anywhere in that condition. Paimon's already talking to Katheryne, she'll cover your commissions for today." His hand went to put the covers back on her.

"I'm not talking about Adventurers' Guild."

"Hmm? Then which mission is it?"

Curious eyes landed on her tired ones. She hesitated. It wasn't like she didn't trust Childe, she'd let him hold his hydro sword by her neck for all she cared. He was a friend first and foremost before a harbinger. Putting more of her baggage on him was the last thing she wanted to do. He had accompanied her in a lot of commissions, thrown enough mora, beat up enough hilichurls for her. It was about time for her to stop relying on him for she didn't really need most of his help in the first place.

Although, having him around was refreshing in a way. She didn't mind his company. Not one bit.

"It's... Nothing important."

"Then it could wait until you're better, yeah?"

A defeated sigh. "Right. Why do you have to be my pseudo nurse, though? Don't you have work?"

"I got nothing to do today, lovely. I'm all yours. Besides, Paimon asked me to stay with you specifically. She was really excited about it too for some reason."

Lumine suddenly had the urge to put the little guide in a burning pot. She knew she should've kept the strange feelings Childe was giving her to herself until she exploded. One moment he was the most annoying person to ever exist, the next he was giving her stomach fluttering sensations she hadn't experienced before. Asking Paimon of all people about what these feelings could possibly mean was her first mistake.

"Paimon thinks you have a crush!" She squealed.

"I have a what now?"

Childe's voice interrupted the Paimon recipe she was planning in her head. "All you have to do today is rest, alright? I think your fever has gone down a little bit after your nap but–"

The spaces between them were already so small, it would be easy for his hands to reach her forehead, which she assumed what he was about to do. Until he moved closer and closer. He cupped her cheeks gently and she stiffened.

It was softer than she thought, his hand. She almost indulged to his touch. Childe leaned forward, their faces were then close enough to the point where she could feel his breath on her lips.

She could only hope he couldn't hear how hard her heart was beating right then.

Were his eyelashes always this long? Were his eyes always this blue? At that moment, she wanted nothing more but to explore those ocean eyes of his, wanting to know what the world was like in his point of view.

Archons, help her. The strange feeling in her stomach was back.

His forehead rested on hers and she shut her eyes. He let out a knowing hum. "You're still burning up, a little warmer than earlier too." The man finally pulled away. She wasn't sure why disappointment weighed in her chest at the lost of his touch. "This fever of yours is intense."

Oh, it was definitely not the fever.

"I'll go get your medicine. Have some spoonful of this stew first. I didn't put poison in that, I promise." He gave her a reassuring smile before getting to his feet. She watched him walk out of the room as her heart continued to thump on her chest loudly as if it was about to break out.

It was rare for Paimon to be right.

Lumine was convinced this was one of those occasions.

Her brother was walking away.

"Aether!" She tried calling him, but the sound might've got lost in the pitch black void they were in for his feet didn't stop moving.

She was running then yet she still couldn't seem to catch up to him. No matter how fast or slow she moved, he remained out of reach. The distance just kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger.

No, please. Don't leave.

"Aether, come back!" Her voice trembled, tears stinging her eyes.

Aether's voice echoed in the void. "You've come too late, Lumine."

The moonlight by the window welcomed Lumine's eyes fluttering open. She blinked away the tears blurring her vision, giving her a clear sight of the ceiling and the rest of the room.

A dream. A realistic, horrendous dream that was.

She took a second to take a couple of deep breaths, steadying herself. She was fine, everything was fine. Her brother was still out there, he was alive, she still hadn't found him but there was already a lead.

A lead that took her nowhere even after searching non stop for more clues these past few weeks.

Her chest tightened. A sob came out of her as tears started flooding her eyes again.

"Lumine?" She was so lost in her own world that she didn't even notice the person lifting his head up from the edge of the bed. The moment he saw her in that state, Childe was immediately by her side. "What's wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?"

The genuine concern in his voice would've made her heart feel warm if it weren't being torn to pieces by her own thoughts.

"N- No." She managed to say while sitting up. He guided her back, worried her trembling arms couldn't support herself. A damp towel fell from her forehead and he caught it before it even landed on the bed.

Memories of someone wiping her neck and face with said towel while she was sleeping, relieving the heat her body was radiating suddenly flashed through her mind.

"Then what's the matter?" The warmth of his hand enveloped hers, rubbing his thumb against her knuckles delicately. "Tell me. Please."

There were bags under his eyes. They've always been there, but tonight they seemed more prominent than usual. What time was it? She couldn't tell, but Lumine had been seeing herself in the mirror for the past few weeks, she knew what someone who haven't had a blink of sleep looked like.

She probably interrupted him from his nap just moments ago too. Being a pseudo nurse shouldn't be taken seriously, but she should've expected nothing less from someone who committed to the act of being a regular toy seller just so he wouldn't ruin his brother's innocence.

Putting others, especially his family, before himself. Perhaps they weren't too different.

With that, she found her voice again. "I had a nightmare. My brother, he– I couldn't catch up to him. He told me I've come too late." She said in between sobs.

Holding her cheeks gently, Childe wiped the tears running down her face. "It's okay, lovely. A dream doesn't reflect what's happening in reality."

"But what if it does? Paimon and I received information that could help our search just a few weeks ago. I've been traveling to all these different places, just looking and looking for more leads but I've been met with nothing but dead ends. What if it's because Aether's not here anymore? What if he's–"

She was pulled into a tight embrace before she could even finish the horrifying implication.

The seaside had always been so calming. Waves creating harmonious splashes, the sand hugging her feet, and that fresh scent. Childe provided that same comfort, like an ocean wave washing all her bad thoughts away. Lumine buried her face on his chest, letting herself drown in him.

His hand soothed her hair. "So you've just been looking without a hint of rest these past few weeks?"

She gave a weak nod.

This side of Childe wasn't unfamiliar, of course. Though, she wondered if holding people when they were feeling down was a habit of his.

And if it was possible for him to hold her closer.

A chuckle. "You were really planning to face your brother all restless and sick? I don't think he'd be too happy to see you faint once you find him." He held her tighter as if hearing her wish. "And I know you will."

He said those words so sincerely, so confidently that it made the tension in her body disappear slowly.

They stayed close like that for a while. Just the hero of Teyvat and her savior for the night in comforting silence by the moonlight.

It was incredible how easy it was for her to break down her walls when it came to him, how it felt like the weight of the world wasn't on her shoulders whenever he was there, how his laugh and random stories alone could erase all her worries, how she could just be a lost girl missing her brother instead of a powerful traveler in his arms.

"You're a strange pseudo nurse." She broke the silence first. "But thank you. I'll continue my search tomorrow. Though, we could still have our sparring session, how does afternoon sound?"

Pulling away, he beamed at her hopeful smile. "I'd like that. Only if your fever is fully gone tomorrow."

"I don't think I have it anymore right now."

"I'll be the judge of that." Once again, he pressed his forehead onto hers, closing his eyes.

Moments passed and he still haven't said a word. She debated whether she should tell him or ask if she was still burning up.

Lumine just ended up getting lost in his touch, letting the waves crash against the shore, fresh water hitting her skin as it washed away the burning sand.

#chilumi #genshin impact #genshin lumine #genshin childe #childe/lumine #fanfic #character study in sickfic form #is that pining i smell

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rwbybutincorrect · 3 years ago

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I have some suggestions for your RWBY pokemon AU

I think Absol makes more sense as a pokemon either for Ruby, or, what I think is more fitting, for Qrow. Absol in the pokemon world is considered a harbinger of disaster because of its ability to sense oncoming calamities, and Qrow considers himself a bad luck charm and his weapon is called Harbinger, so I can imagine it being like, his signature pokemon, and maybe Ruby, wanting to emulate her Uncle, catches one for herself.

I also think Ruby and Yang's starters make more sense swapped around, Blaziken fits more with Yang (a hot headed fighting type) rather than Incineroar (a Dark type meant to emulate Heels in wrestling I.e the bad guys). Incineroar also fits better with Ruby's v1-v3 colours, though I also don't think a fire starter would fit Ruby, I think Sceptile fits more, as it's a fast pokemon that uses its leaves on its arms as blades, which I think fits Ruby better.

I'd also pick Rosarade over Florges but that's just my purrsonal preference.

Now for Weiss, my only suggestion would be changing Corvinkight with something else, and I'm thinking Glaceon. I love the idea that Weiss as a child finds an injured Eevee in the large family garden and secretly takes care of it, but her father finds out and forces her to take it back to the wilds, but while out there it saves Weiss from several Beowolves and in the artic climate evolves into a Glaceon which Weiss then adopts.

Blake, id replace Absol with Greninja for aesthetic, but otherwise I would change Gallade's past, Ralts' only show themselves to trainers with strong positive emotions, so I can't see Adam ever having one, but I like the idea of maybe Blake and Yang being helped during the forest exam at Beacon by two Ralts/Kirlia's who they then take (Yang saying its the sign of their new partnership), and otherwise I would change Gallade for Gardevoir for Blake and have Gallade be Yang's pokemon, since it's a pokemon with strong morals and I feel fit Yang better.

Now for Yang, and other than the previous suggestions of Blaziken and Gallade as hers, I would replace Tyrantrum with Hitmontop, storywise I'd say that, when she's recovering post Beacon and on her way back from visiting Summer's grave, she encounters a Tyrouge rushing headfirst into fighting a stronger pokemon and getting seriously hurt, so Yang saves it and takes it home to recover. Despite all its injuries it still insists on training, Tai seeing this starts encouraging Yang to train with it, hoping it'll help her out. As both Yang and the Tyrouge bond and train, learning not to rush headfirst into battles and to adopt a more balanced fighting style, it evolves into Hitmontop to symbolise Yang's recovering and training.

And thats just RWBY, I have plenty of suggestions for JNPR, Sun, Ilia, Adam, Salem's forces, STQR, the Ace-Ops, Happy Huntresses and Neo~

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submitted by @ladydevoir thank you :EYES:

[for reference, this is about this post]

treating this like an ask because i assume that's why you submitted it, because of the text limit but :EYESY:EYES:EYES

my choice of absol for blake is because i knew about the lore implications of absol and thought it would be a tragic detail if an absol appeared before her trying to protect her from the travesties she's repetitively had to face. i might give one to qrow anyway because I'm not afraid of duplicates!!! i didn't think about any supporting adult pokemon teams quite yet!

i will be honest, the blaziken choice for ruby was mostly self indulgent :3 i love chickens and blaziken's aesthetic. notable moments in the anime stuck with me, like during xy's series when there was a vigilante "blaziken man" protecting luminous city - that's a big reason why i chose it for her, that kind of over the top kind of heroism i thought worked. as opposed to incenroar who fights dirty. early in rwby, yang is a very backhanded and not exactly noble kind of hero. just look at the "yellow" trailer, fucking shit up for self motivated reasons (good for her.) i thought it fit her! --- but i can absolutely see what you're saying with sceptile, that is another favorite of mine and i'd love to see her with a sceptile that could mega evolve!

roserade, yeah i can see that fitting too! i forget it exists sometimes- my bad - and i like the grass type a little bit more to some extent than the fairy type because ruby has less of an association to the balance of nature~ that fairies do

i like the glaceon idea a lot too!!! the concepts of potential and direct reflection of her cold home - not to mention it's my second favorite eeveelution :D corviknight, yeah, it's my weakest link and i wanted to add it purely on the basis i'd like the snow queen to have her knight - but i think a glaceon would be much cuter, considering she already has plenty of stand ins for her glyphs!

I'm also interested about the greninja for the aesthetic! I'm not all that attached to the kalos starters so i tend to forget about them a lot more, i leaned on the "dark" type for blake but definitely didn't consider the. actual ninja pokemon. but i also tried to hold off on giving her a proper starter because in this little hc concept of mine, starters come specifically from pre-huntsmen schools (like signal in yang and ruby's case). i liked having the narrative of some students being "othered" by lacking starters - a visual tool when displaying their teams that they didn't have the opportunity to start where others did. not to say greninja couldn't have been a wild encounter or something else - fun to think about and really fits!

i DID not know about the kirlia lore though, i thought it was pretty weak when i was coming up with it and that is so interesting to know. i enjoy the idea of a pokemon switching allegiances from adam to protect blake but with this new information, I'll probably rewrite it in a way where the bee duo's ralts evos are more exclusive to them :3 i do like your idea of switching them, though, i tried to switch them to divert expectations, right (yang being a bit more masc than yang yet having a gardevoir, blake having the more showmanshy evo) but i might switch them. or i can just say the pokemon are practically shared and will switch up who they're paired with by their own choice. gf things <333

the hitmontop concept is really interesting for yang! it really does fit her - and i never paid attention to the line because, i will be honest, it never aesthetically pleased me, but narratively it works super well. i liked tyrantrum because i loved giving yang dragons and i also thought if she restored a tyrunt herself, it would be a nice indication of yang's genuine intelligence and wisdom. i don't like people boiling her down to a bimbo, haha funny stupid lesbian, but i feel like people also fail to recognize her genuine technical and social intelligence that she's portrayed throughout the series. then again, a hitmontop could show that emotional and protective instinct and intelligence she carries. it's sweet!! I'm torn!!!

AAAAANYWAY LONG STORY SHORT thank you so much for your opinions!!! i love the feedback and second opinion. i did a little bit of brainstorming with few friends in our discord server and its nice to hear an unrelated voice's takes!

feel free to send us more ideas if you'd like!!! :D as of right now I'm working on (the original) jnrp's post, and have penny, oscar, roman, neo, emerald, mercury, and cinder's teams planned! (I'm not sure how to section them off atm so their posts are coming later!) I'm curious to hear your ideas for when i get around to these other characters

#rwby pokemon teams #rwby #submission #jinn's answers #petal burst #im tagging these things for mysake <333 #thank you #talk to me about pokemon @ everyone #mod weiss doesn't understand my pokemonwords enough #and i get judged for team planning when i should be sleeping!!!!#long post

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astro-pioneer · 4 years ago

Text

Anyway thoughts about Dain and others. I'm gonna separate this into different parts since it's probably gonna get confusing. Might do a second part for certain parts of this.

So to get as accurate as possible I did search for more information about The Abyss and Khaenri'ah

OK so I'll give a little back story before diving into my thoughts: Khaenri'ah is an underground unreleased section where, in Dain's words, "the gods' gaze does not fall". It is the origin of Khemia, a type of alchemy heavily focused on the creation of life that ultimately destroyed it. Also, for the Sword Cemetery, that is a result of a war between Mondstadt and Khaenri'ah.

Khemia

Anyway thought time - so since Knaenri'ah has very little fauna and plants they have to find a way to survive and get food and whatnot - hence the creation of Khemia. Now, since there's no information on the aftermath of using Khemia on let's say a human, we're going to make assumptions.

So obviously altering with human life is bound to have it's backlashes, right? My three main bully victims are going to be Kaeya, Albedo, and Dain. Kaeya first: he was sent to Mondstadt as a last hope for his original homeland (I got too lazy to type it continuously) so I'm gonna assume that, before he was dropped off at Dawn Winery, he went through some alterations.

Kaeya

And you guys are gonna get mad but I'm gonna talk about his eye patch. Now, my assumption with the backlash is that it does something physical to the person undergoing Khemia. And yes, while Noelle does say she prepares Kaeya's eye patch, that doesn't necessarily mean that she puts it on him and has seen him without it.

Seeing as though Khemia isn't well-known by the common folk and is concerning to the gods (at least to Venti - thoughts on this later) it's best to hide any evidence of it when around people. That might be Kaeya's case with his eye patch, especially with the issue with Diluc and his father.

Albedo

Listen I hate myself for even starting this but I'm too far deep to give up so we gotta talk about his sexy ass. Now, his diamond. If that's a birthmark then holy hell that's one gorgeous mark. BUT I don't think it is. Since he's the one who practices Khemia, he probably knows how to manipulate the placement to be somewhere hidden or so small you can't see it.

Lmao that kinda contradicted my diamond topic but my thought behind that is that he got that from his teacher (I REFUSE to type that long ass name ok) before he knew the art himself. Him knowing the practice and Venti's wariness of it makes more sense now - will be explained soon.

Dain

THIS BITCH- Ok I need more content of him so I can understand him more but I hate him so muuuuuch. So since he admits that he saw Old Mondstadt before Dvalin resided in it, I immediately thought to the battle at Sword Cemetery even though it doesn't fit with the geography (be honest though nothing matches the geography since the "Wolf of the North" is in the wEST) and you can't see it even from atop the logs (before anyone says anything, yes, I did check with the tallest character I have and yes, I did blind myself at one in the morning just for that.)

Anyway we're getting off topic what I wanted to talk about is the galaxy thing right over his heart. This is going to be short since there's not a lot about him but it's very obvious that it's not natural (well duh) and it reminds me of the particles that erupt from Paimon and that appears out of Aether's hand for an idle animation (I, personally, chose Aether for the MC so I will be using him most of the the time). However, there's noy a lot on him and his attire so this is all I really have.

Venti and Khemia

So a little while ago someone found out that in front of Venti's statue in front of the cathedral it says "Gate to Celestia" backwards. And I do love the theories from many others about how the game might end right where it started, aka Mondstadt. Khaenri'ah dislikes the gods and is not under rule of the Seven and, with Kaeya as a "last hope" so to speak, I feel like (if he doesn't get too attached to everyone) Kaeya and possibly Albedo as well, is going to lead the hilichurls and possibly the Abyss to Mondstadt to open the gate to destroy Celestia.

This is probably why Venti is wary of anyone who knows Khemia or is a known member of Khaenri'ah. This is far fetched but what if he knows of a possible ending without the traveller that is Mondstadt and possibly Teyvat as a whole being destroyed? It's obvious that history and stories are told through songs and, as Venti said in the archon quest, he knows songs "from the past, present, and future."

The Abyss ft. Khaenri'ah & Dain (again)

This is probably going to be the biggest since there's a lot of parts to it. So it's been confirmed that the hilichurls, the people of Khaenri'ah, are being controlled by the Abyss. My thought process was that the Abyss was once a part of Khaenri'ah but there was so much Khemia practice on them that they became less and less human. On a similar note, Instagram user natrya_art made her own theory based off of the Abyss and the chambers just off of the opening screen itself (also one about Dain, Durin, and Alberich (Kaeya's last name) that's still on her story :D).

You guys are probably like "Astro where are you going with this" so I'll stop adding random information and get on with it. Dain specifically only mentions Lumine with "her" and "she" along with "is" and similar present tenses, meaning that she is still alive during whatever time he comes from (as he will decide fate himself if "Albedo were to make a single wrong move using Khemia" (possibly opening the gate) and that's the only time he'll interfere). It's obvious he knows Aether, as he's very easy to talk once he mentions being a traveller. Now, when have you ever heard anyone in genshin mention traveller that is not about Aether/Lumine? Exactly, barely ever if at all.

I mention this since Dain's interest isn't peaked when Aether introduces himself as an adventurer but only after he says he's a traveller looking for his sibling. I, personally, think that Dain was a travel buddy for Lumine since, branching off of Natrya's theory about the Abyss, she was probably brought to the Abyss when they were fighting on one of the paths in Celestia in the beginning.

Since Lumine is trying to redirect Aether from finding out anything about her plans, it shows that she does not want him to either catch her trying to destroy the world or get caught in the crossfire and die. In the time where Dain comes from, though, that's probably what happened and the Abyss wins in the end. So Dain, already knowing where Lumine and the Abyss went, brings Aether to every location that he can remember.

During the old timeline, let's call it that since it's obviously going to change with Aether having help from Dain and Friends™, Lumine most likely talked about Aether and what happened to them. Maybe Dain was just trying to see if he was the real Aether during the tavern scene? No one knows right now honestly (other than the voice actors and creators honestly but they can't say anything.)

It's also obvious that he knows how far Aether is on his journey, as he mentions the Contract to End All Contracts but not why it was made or what the Tsaritsa did with them all while knowing about Venti being Barbatos and the Stormterror battle. This could just be blamed on his failing memory but that's not the case, as he says that he doesn't lack time and will wait to talk about Rex Lapis. However, it's obvious he only knows one side of it, as Aether and the player know of Zhongli being a player in the Rite of Descension but Dain doesn't, as he questions his attitude towards it.

Prophecy

This is copied from Dain's profile on the genshin wiki: The confluence between the past and future. The original calamity had been overturned, yet the island in the sky set the earth to burn. Chalk pursues gold, in this time inopportune, the eclipse is swallowed by the crimson moon. The future must atone for bygone mistakes, as the bond familiar falters and breaks— of the same blood, elders and the youth... Such is the cycle of the world, in truth. Dain, what is that strand of blonde hair to you? Someone you must kill? Or the object of your penitence? - Self-proclaimed prophet

I changed the colour of the parts I want to talk about. The first line is obviously referring to Dain and his connection with going back in time to change the future he came from. "The island in the sky" is Celestia, and the line about setting earth alit could be talking about the gate opening or the gods thinking it'll be best to destroy earth to save themselves.

"Chalk pursues gold." THIS LINE. This one line is what I want to talk about a lot. Gold is not referring to the alchemist who destroyed Khaenri'ah, as it's not uppercased as all names should be. Instead, it's referring to Aether. (Note: the game is actually supposed to take place as you playing as Aether, which is why he's always in the trailers as the protagonist and is more expressive). Aether has multiple gold or gold coloured parts to him, including his hair, parts of his outfit, and it can even be argued that his eyes can be included too. Chalk is, obviously, Albedo, which connects to the quest about him where he's called the Chalk Prince when Dragonspine was introduced. Speaking of Dragonspine, Durin (the dragon that died there) actually came out of Khaenri'ah. Weird how Albedo is almost always in Dragonspine right? The pursuing part can go two ways: his ending line about how if he [Albedo] destroys Mondstadt, will Aether be there to stop him OR to make sure Aether is there to watch him destroy it. A third side is that Albedo pursues Lumine to help with her plan of Destroying Mindstadt/Teyvat.

Crimson moon is obviously about one of the trailers, where I think Lumine is seen walking on the path where her and Aether fought the god in Celestia with a red moon and sky in the background.

"Bond familiar falters and breaks - of the same blood, elders and youth" Aether and Lumine. I feel as though one of them (Aether most likely) will feel the most betrayed and he will lose all trust and love in Lumine and what's she's doing/done. Elders and youth is interesting. It can be nodding at the gods and the people of Teyvat or the gap between Lumine and how she's grown old while Aether died when he was young.

"That strand of blolde hair." English classes and teachers do not teach this enough!!! So I'll say it: blond, with no 'e' is masculine and is used to describe males. Blonde WITH an 'e' is feminine and for females. The use of blonde instead of blond eliminates Aether, Albedo, and Dain. The only blond we really encountered? Lumine. And I can already see the "well what if they didn't know the difference between e and no e" but we're talking about a game where a god dressed as a bard speaks in rhymes and riddles while Dain speaks like hes a poet. They know what they did. This might hint to him being the former travel companion of Lumine and any possible feelings he had that might get in the way of stopping him from helping everyone to stop her.

The Three Questions

When talking to Dain he asks three questions in order to see how similar your thought process is to Lumine. "Who do you think was the key to stopping the Stormterror incident" or something along the lines is the first question. Your answers are Barbatos, yourself, or the people. I will try to go off of memory with my answers, as his quest has yet to be added to the completed quests, as it's in chapter four which hasn't been released yet. I answered Barbatos for this question.

The next one is about Liyue and who will take care of it since Rex Lapis is no longer there to protect it. I said the people of the harbour, which was the third question. The last one is about Visions and who are more important in the eyes of the gods. The three answers are people with visions, without visions, or neither. I answered neither, giving me the dialogue of Aether's answers being similar to Lumine's.

Vision Question

The one about Visions struck me as odd. Visions are given by gods to people that they have acknowledged, yeah? Khaenri'ah isn't acknowledged by the gods and isn't run by any of the Seven. So that means that no one who resided in Khaenri'ah were never helped or were given visions. So why would Dain ask about them? I think it's due to Aether and most likely Lumine being able to weild the elements without a vision. There's also two certain dialogue options that are in the form of thoughts (I do not remember what quests they're from however) and the first one is like "(I'm getting back to my original strength)" I think it was in regards to getting geo too or something while the other one is "(I wish to get the powers of the gods)" or something.

When I first got them I paused for a second. Original strength and the powers of the gods... This obviously means the fact that with one touch of a statue we can switch to that element and can be "blessed" so to speak without actually being blessed. Also I've been meaning to talk about this ever since I leveled up Venti's statue but so far both Mondstadt and Liyue have an extra oculus. This is probably going to be for every region. I found that interesting, since you usually almost always interact with the statues with specific oculi, making it more powerful and giving you more stamina in the process. I think we have to use the extra one to fully harness the powers of that god in order to beat the final boss (probably Lumine.) They are also under the "Precious Items" tab in your inventory which is somewhat significant as well.

I'm gonna end this theory here for now since it got extremely long lmao. A part two might be coming though!

#ೄ sage #genshin thoughts #genshin theory #genshin impact theory #genshin impact thoughts #genshin #genshin impact

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su-homebroken-au · 5 years ago

Text

Homebroken Chapter 7

The second that ship landed, the second Lars took his first step onto the beach and the second he opened his mouth..

Everything fell apart.

Everything already was falling apart, Steven turning himself left Beach City in a state of emotional chaos. There was the naive belief crossing the streets that Steven would be okay, because he was Steven and he always managed to get out of difficult situations.

But those situations happened on earth, where he had back up if he needed. Not someplace far away with absolutely nothing. No friends, no food and no plan. He didn't even have an instrument to play to figure things out with. He was alone.

And there was no backup coming for him.

He couldn't come home from this. Not while every gem on their side was falling apart, each little secret was suddenly ripped from their hiding places and presented and highlighted for the world to see.

Connie didn't believe that things could deteriorate so quickly.

Stability torn into two, love broken and the future was bleak. The reveal of the truth was a bitter poison, or was it a cruel wake up call that nothing is ever what it seems? Connie wished she could understand, but the first lie bloomed centuries ago and created with it a field of deceit.

Her legs tremble as everything she held true crumbled. She can only watch as Pearl's tears spilled as she dispelled the belief that they were not one but two separate entities. A rebel against a queen, but in truth it was a queen rebelling. Setting aside her crown for the sword and calling her armies to arms.

If she had none this before, it could have been a story that Connie loved but now? She just felt confused.

Why?

She understood not wanting to tell her fellow Diamonds, but why neglect to tell those who she considered her closest comrades? Why have Pearl carry this burden for centuries, hidden behind lock and key. Preventing her from revealing it until someone else spoke the truth first.

And Lars had unknowingly unlocked the door to reveal the truth.

She didn't know if she had the right to be upset about this. She did not live her life with this idea of Rose Quartz, it wasn't something she had known for centuries or being born into the shadow of one hiding the truth. She felt perhaps she was just upset on Steven's behalf, knowing that he wasn't here.

Maybe she was also afraid of what else had been concealed.

Garnet was gone, the fusion's heart torn into two inconsolable and confused shards. Sapphire ran off, Ruby poofed in her despair and confusion. Amethyst followed Sapphire, Pearl clutched the little red gem and pleaded for forgiveness.

She could only look skyward, pleading for the safe return of their beloved boy.

Lapis had screamed and thrashed. She tore the barn apart in a blind fury sewn together with confusion and misery. She left soon after, Peridot was a wreck. She didn't know what to do, the little green gem watched her newfound family be torn apart and her best friend demolish their home.

Connie was surprised she didn't poof, but supposedly her kind of gem did not poof so easily. She just clung to Pearl, the only stability she had right now while she rambled about things that didn't quite make sense just yet.

Greg.. Greg was a wreck. Everyone was a wreck, everything was a mess and nothing would be okay again. Maybe it would be if Steven was here, he knew what to do and what to say.

But he wasn't here, he was alone and possibly frightened. In a world with no answers. Playing a role he could never know fully, thrust into the deep end without a script. Was he safe? It was something playing on her mind, it had been since the door shut and the ship took to the stars.

She tried to sleep. Greg in his panic and worry brought her home, where she would be safe. She wanted to be there, she wanted to be with Steven..

Her parents are whispering downstairs, Connie already knew what it was about. Undoubtedly, they were theorising on what they could do to help but unless they knew a way to get to space Connie couldn't help but find it impossible.

She kept her phone on, glancing fruitlessly hoping for a text. Just a little 'Hey! :)' and everything would be okay. She could sleep, and deal with everything with a clear and rested head.

But that wasn't how this story played out.

Quiet.

Move Silently.

Quiet, quiet. Stay quiet. Don't speak, don't breath or they'll see you. Monstrous beings lumbered with vines curled into a mockery of leg muscles. Parted jaws breath toxic fumes that threaten to choke even the hardiest of critters.

Quiet, quiet.

They can't see you as long as you stay long, miss matched limbs and bodies shuffle to the exit. Stay quiet, stay safe. The creatures above can't see them, they lack eyes. They lack their sight, their empathy.

They lack his empathy.

Jagged shapes of blue and yellow form a frightening figure. Dripping venom and shocking hallucinations into puppets. Jaws part, and they part, and they part. A wide dislocated jaw with rows and rows of teeth stare at her. Suddenly it lunges, it's roar sounding like a mix of an engine and the cry of a mistreated instrument.

Arms of blue and yellow break the floor, and she falls. She had company, she was alone and she's falling.

There's clocks around her as she falls through shattered glass. Some are broken, some are whirring so quickly Connie cannot comprehend what it means. Their chimes fills her head with such a buzz she cannot even think clearly, their tick and tock is all that remains in this dark world she is falling through.

The clocks become bloody, broken and shattered. Some try desperately to tick, but they're missing too many components. The pointers gesture in abnormal directions, they're trying to find a direction without a map.

She gasps quietly, everything is silent. Everything should be calm but she can see it.

A broken clock, hands of many different hues breaking it a part. It was a lovely clock, one she knew would have wonder and intrigue in each chime. The stars painted across it in bright, luminous shades of yellow did nothing but mock her. All she can do is run towards it, reaching forward to save the breaking little clock.

When she woke up, she was sweating and reaching for her phone. Connie sat up, running a hand through her hair with a quiet gasp. She couldn't even think straight, trying to decipher what on earth she had just witnessed.

It was a dream. That much was clear, but it was so surreal that it had to mean something. She focused on the one image that still remained clear.

Clocks.

Specifically, breaking clocks.

Connie slipped out of bed, changing into a more appropriate attire. She couldn't hear her parents, and her phone's time read 03:21. She sighed once more, running a hand through her hair as she paced in her room.

She couldn't sit here. She was Steven's knight, she swore to protect him as he protected her. He had done so already, pushing her out of harms way even if it meant facing danger alone. That fact still hurt her, it gave her an uneasy feeling in her gut that threatened to unthread everything she believed about herself.

She knows Steven.

She knows he thinks with his heart and not his head.

Connie looked at herself in the mirror, taking in her dishevelled appearance. She looked back to her bag, with her sword still resting. Waiting.

It's kissed by the moonlight, the hilt gleaming with purpose. She removes it from its resting place, and with a careful hand she cuts her hair. It rests now, just a little above her shoulders.

Its a rash decision, but the one she's going to make is even more dangerous.

Slowly, Connie crept downstairs with her bag and sword. She snuck into the kitchen and carefully stuffed as many snacks as she could into her bag. She'd exit the house slowly, using her key to silently lock the door.

Satisfied with her escape, she turned and walked straight into Lion.

"Grrowr.."

Recovering from the initial shock, Connie raised a hand to scratch behind his ears. He leans into her touch, eyelids fluttering shut with a quiet huff.

"I know.." She whispered softly to him. "I know. I miss him too."

He cooed quietly.

"We'll get him back okay?" But such a thing is easier said than done. How could they get to Steven? They didn't have a ship, she didn't know how far Lion could warp her. She had no idea what to do.

Think.

There was a ship.

The ship that landed, the ship that brought Lars home. Last time Connie had seen it, it was on the outskirts of Beach City. It was a dangerous idea, but it was also the only one she had at that moment.

"Lion." She cups his massive head with her hands, and he looked at her like he already understood. "Take me to the ship."

"We're going to get our boy back."

#steven universe #su #steven universe homebroken #su homebroken #story

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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 5 years ago

Text

Spring Day

Well.

A long time ago, my friend @xeraeus drew a picture of Jumin and V set to the song Spring Day by BTS. (More specifically this picture, but honestly they have a few on this topic). Anyway, I’ve wanted to write a fic in that vein, based on that song, for a long ass time now, but never had the right angle. It is so perfectly them. This fic was supposed to be smut, but lol. I played myself I guess. It was originally set to the song 2002 by Anne Marie, but became Spring Day all on its own :’). Dates are based on the original 2016 release of Mysme and timeline I made. Our boys are 30 this year!!

Mystic Messenger | JuminV (I wrote them with the idea in mind that they loved each other deeply, though I think it’s also enjoyable as simple platonic love) | Tw for suicide and dead bodies. Like legit, if you’re even slightly triggered by these things give this fic a wide berth. It incorporates the original secret endings.

~~~

1996

“Here...like this!”

Jumin picked up the nearest piece of chalk and pressed it down onto the concrete, shading in the eyes and hair of his clumsily drawn superhero.

As had come to be the usual summer routine, Jumin and Jihyun spent entire afternoons at one another’s house. Sometimes they broke through the hole in the fence at the end of Jumin’s garden and explored the street; other times they climbed the trees and peered out across their tiny kingdom.

Today they had taken to Jihyun’s porch with boxes of brightly coloured chalk, eager to scribble down pictures of their favourite superheroes.

Iron man’s armour and Superman’s boots were pink, with speech bubbles scribbled in a luminous green. Jumin and Jihyun’s hands, meanwhile, were covered in bright smudges of colour where their hands had touched the ground. At some point Jihyun had rubbed his hand across his face, leaving a smear of pink dust.

Jumin dragged a piece of chalk across the concrete, sketching clouds underneath Iron Man’s boots.

“He’s going to fly away to Metropolis, just like this…”

“Just to see Superman?”

“Of course!”

Jihyun took a different piece of chalk and drew over the frowning face he had put on his original sketch.

“Superman’s happy,” he said. “Look, he’s smiling.”

“Of course he is, he’s getting a visit from Iron Man!”

“Oh, it’s not Iron Man he’s excited about. It’s Pepper Potts. He wants to take her on a date.”

“But Pepper isn’t coming...and anyway, she’s Iron Man’s girlfriend. Why would she go on a date with Superman?”

“Ah, well, Iron Man and Superman are friends. Friends share the things they like!”

“I don’t know if that applies to people…”

Jihyun, seemingly unphased, reached for the bottle of sugary juice he’d been sipping at in the baking heat.

“Of course it does! See, Superman can take Pepper on dates from Monday to Wednesday. Iron Man can take her on dates from Thursday to Saturday.”

“What about Sunday?”

“Hmmm,” Jihyun scratched his chin. “I suppose she’ll need a break from all of those dates. Maybe Superman should go to the movies with Iron Man while she’s resting.”

“That’s very considerate of them,” said Jumin. “I suppose they must be meeting on a Sunday this time, then.”

“Oh, you’re right!”

Jihyun moved to set down his juice, presumably to draw other details onto their scene. He misjudged the distance, though, and gasped as it spilled, flooding their drawings in a sea of red.

They both moved instinctively, slamming their hands over the juice in an attempt to rub it away. It only smeared the chalk, though, leaving Iron Man without a head and Superman’s smiling face a blurred mess.

Jumin watched as the colours merged into one, reds and pinks and yellows and green, so closely intertwined that it became difficult to tell which was which.

Jihyun jumped up to fetch a cloth from the house, leaving Jumin to watch in curiosity at the grazes on his hands, blooming through the mix of juice and chalk, shining like a rainbow over his broken skin.

1997

“So if we carry the one and find the multiplier…”

Jumin glanced up from his textbook, expecting a follow up question or observation, only to frown at the confirmation of his worst suspicions. It had been Jihyun’s idea to have a study party, but he had spent most of it with his head resting on one hand, seemingly more interested in the goings on outside of his bedroom window than any equation.

Jumin cleared his throat politely, watching as Jihyun’s wistful expression cleared into one of disorientation.

“Where were you?”

“I…” Jihyun ran his fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry.”

“Something on your mind?”

“No. Not exactly.”

Jihyun looked back at the window, as if searching for answers, which presumably did not come, for he stayed quiet. When he eventually spoke, it was so softly that Jumin wondered if he was really addressing him at all.

“That woman… She came again today.”

2002

“...and to that I hold. I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone…”

“I choose a mortal life.”

Jumin and Jihyun watched in awe as Narwen let go of Naragorn’s hand, leaving behind the glittering Nevenstar.

They waited on the edge of their seats for the next line, only for it to be drowned out by thudding at the door. They peered over the back of the couch, watching as the maid scurried to greet whoever had come to visit, visibly nervous from the heavy urgency of their knocks.

“Good aft-“

The maid got only midway through her greeting before realising the visitor’s identity and, even though neither Jihyun nor Jumin could see what was going on, it was incredibly obvious from the maid’s hurried apologies that whoever it was was not only unwelcome, but unhappy about it.

“You tell him!” The visitor cried out, their words slurred in the telltale fashion of one who has lost their hearing. “You tell him he’s my son- he can’t keep him from me!”

Jumin turned back towards the television, unable to shake the feeling that he had seen something he shouldn’t have. He chanced a sideways glance at Jihyun, who still peered in the direction of the voices, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Well,” said Jumin, sliding off the couch and wishing he didn’t sound so awkward. “I can’t hear the movie. We should watch it elsewhere.”

Jihyun didn’t answer, but he certainly didn’t protest as Jumin stopped the movie and put it back in its case. They climbed the stairs to Jihyun’s bedroom in silence, Jihyun lost in his thoughts and Jumin reluctant to draw him out of them for fear of saying the wrong thing.

Jihyun closed his bedroom door behind them and rested his back against the grain, squeezing his eyes shut in a failed attempt to block out the woman on the porch.

“It might take a while to get back to the scene,” said Jumin, getting onto his knees to fiddle with the TV. “If you just give me a-”

“Why does she do this?”

It was rare for Jihyun to have this sort of outburst and Jumin turned to him in surprise, watching as he sank down to the floor.

“Why does she keep coming here...keep saying such idiotic things…”

Jumin wanted to say so many things, but ultimately only one thing felt appropriate.

“She loves you,” he said, thinking back to the movie scene only seconds before. “People act in unexpected ways when it comes to their loved ones..”

“In that case, I hope it never happens to me.”

2005

Jumin didn’t like the smell of hospitals. It was the smell of death, as imminent as it was inevitable, and it permeated every fibre in his clothing and strand of his hair. He thought of it every time he visited charity events with his father, unable to hide the way the chemical scent burned his nose as he posed for photographs. It gripped onto him no matter how forcefully he scrubbed his skin in the bathtub; lingering on the collar of his shirts regardless of how often he sent them away to be laundered.

This time, though, the smell was the least of his worries. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t thought about it all.

He had the luxury of only bits and pieces of the story; the smell of smoke overpowering his imagination. For the first time in all of his visits to the hospital, he had a genuine reason to be afraid of what he might find there.

He stayed silent as Chief Kim showed him into the room; saying nothing even as he approached the bed, both relieved and nervous at Chief Kim’s rapid decision to leave them alone.

Jihyun had recently had something of a growth spurt, yet looked incredibly small in the hospital bed. His face was bruised, his arms bandaged and Jumin was sure he’d never forget the expression on his face. It was as if he wasn’t truly there, staring off into space as if searching the walls for answers.

Jumin cleared his throat and took a seat next to the bed, lifting his book bag onto his lap and reaching inside for the books and papers he had carefully packed before leaving the house.

“I made a second set of notes for you,” he said, setting them down on the bedside counter, “as well as the recommended reading.”

Jihyun stayed still and silent, as if he wasn’t there. Jumin pretended he didn’t notice, continuing to rifle through his bag.

“Our class signed a card for you,” he said, “we pitched in and bought some candies. Here, your favourites.”

Jihyun still said nothing and Jumin clasped his hands together in his lap. He didn’t know what he had expected to find there, so eager to see his friend that it hadn’t crossed his mind that he didn’t really know what to say to make him feel better. He wished he had brought another member of his class with him, someone who wasn’t as awkward as he was.

“I...um,” he said. “About what happened...I’m sorry for your loss.”

It sounded hollow, even to him, though nothing sounded appropriate. There were no words for situations like this; not one of his lessons on etiquette had prepared him, and he certainly lacked the relevant life experience to draw from memory.

He wanted, more than anything, to say that he was sorry. He was the one who had suggested Jihyun take the time to visit his mother. He wondered if any of this would have happened if he had considered his words as carefully as he was now.

Jihyun began to speak, his voice so croaky that Jumin wondered how long he had gone without speaking.

“She...she saved me…”

“Jihyun?”

“She saved me,” he said again, turning towards the bedside counter and pile of brightly coloured candies. “Why?”

Jumin knew only the bare bones of the story and the mental image alone was enough to haunt his imagination: smoke billowing from broken windows; the crash of a falling chandelier. He knew he had nothing of value to say, so instead repeated the same words from a couple of years before.

“She loved you.”

It felt strange to say it in the past tense and he couldn't even begin to imagine how it might feel to be on the receiving end.

Jihyun clearly didn’t know either, for he never replied, instead turning back to the wall and staring back into space, as if going over the words in his own imagination.

2008

“Over here...just...aha! Like that!”

Jihyun-no, V-took a step back and clapped his hands.

“Well,” he said, “what do you think?”

Jumin pinched his chin, taking in the bright colours and practised angling.

It was immaculate, that much was true; a portrait of longing in pink and purple. Even so, he couldn’t think of the right words to describe it.

On its own it was perfect. It would certainly attract admirers if presented in an exhibition. The fact remained, though, that it wasn’t in a gallery or even alone. V’s study was full of photographs almost identical to that one, with only V’s own assurances of the imperfections that distinguished them from one another.

Jumin couldn’t help but skim the floor and desks, eyeing the endless rolls of films yet to make it to print; the makeshift darkroom and unpacked boxes.

Over the past few years, Jihyun had taken an interest in photography that quickly developed into something of an obsession. Jihyun spent most of his days travelling between his studio to one site or another to fill his photo albums with pictures of the skyline. Jumin frequently scolded him for how little he was sleeping; how dark the bags under his eyes had become.

Since his mother’s death, he had been continuously restless, spending so long behind the camera that he no longer seemed to recognise the real world beyond it. One day he would show Jumin a new shot he was proud of, only to have archived it several days later.

There was no denying that his photographs were beautiful and Jumin could only imagine how they must look to outsiders. Having seen them all, however, he couldn’t escape the underlying sense of desperation in each one, as if each one tried and failed to capture its true subject.

He took in V’s hopeful expression as he examined the picture in front of him, recalling his own observation several years ago.

People were irrational where their loved ones were involved and V was nothing but irrational of late. Jumin glanced at the bookcase on the opposite wall, full to the brim with the leather journals that came into V’s possession after his mother’s funeral.

He turned back to V and forced a smile.

“It’s wonderful,” he said. “The best one yet.”

2010

“It’s beautiful!”

Jihyun chased the shoreline, jeans rolled up to his knee and camera outstretched in front of him. He dropped to his knees to capture the way the sun shone against the tides; his own shadow against the shore.

It had been Jumin’s idea to visit the island and Jihyun’s to bring his camera. Even though he had suggested the break in an attempt to give Jihyun a break from seeing the world through a camera lens, he couldn’t bring himself to tear it away from him. He looked so happy, gasping in genuine delight at every ripple of water and his own footprints in the sand-footprints washed away by the sea only moments after being set in place.

Jumin wanted to tell him that true beauty couldn’t be contained on something so simple as camera film, but it was difficult to follow his own advice. Camera or no camera, this was the first time in at least a decade that he had seen Jihyun so free.

“Jumin!” He cried out, dropping to his knees and setting his camera aside. “Look!”

Jumin walked over to him, concerned that he might have grazed his foot or worse, only to slow his gait when Jihyun lifted the shell in his hands.

“You had me worried there for a second.”

“Sssh!”

Jihyun held the shell to his ear and leaned out towards the sea, trying to focus on the sounds within.

Jumin folded his arms, watching as the sea lapped the shore and drenched Jihyun’s jeans. He didn’t seem to care, far more interested in the sound of the ocean than anything else.

Perhaps it was hypocritical on his part, but he wanted to capture this moment forever. How long would it be until he got another glimpse of Jihyun laughing? Would Jihyum ever see himself bathed in the sunlight he had come to love so much?

Despite himself, Jumin reached for the abandoned camera, stealing a picture of Jihyun while he wasn’t looking.

People weren’t themselves when it came to their loved ones and he didn't mind being someone else for a while.

2011

Jumin knew V better than most. He could tell when he was tired, coming down with a cold, hungry, annoyed and more.

It went without saying that he could tell when he was nervous, and that certainly seemed to be the case now. Jumin glanced from his friend’s nervous smile to the woman standing behind him, who had bowed so politely at the mention of her name.

“V has told me so much about you,” she said, “it’s like we’re friends already.”

She spoke so pleasantly that it left him feeling guilty, all too aware of the uneasy look in his friend’s face.

“A pleasure,” he said, stretching out a hand for hers.

It wasn’t a pleasure, of course, and he trusted that Jihyun knew him well enough to notice. He couldn’t escape the bright colour of her hair; the wideness of her smile as she accepted his handshake.

Never before had he met a person that reminded him so thoroughly of empty landscapes and lonely skies. She reminded him of sunlight-the same rays V so desperately tried to capture on film- and something about it sent a shiver up his spine.

He had spent so long staring into Jihyun’s desperate portraits of loneliness and longing, yet had never come to consider his own.

He remembered the heavy thuds of Jihyun’s mother’s fists against the Kim’s front door, each one echoing through his heart as Rika and Jihyun laughed in front of him, so engaged in their own conversation that it was as if he watched them through a misted window.

He didn’t know why, but her every word cut into him like broken glass, bringing to mind events that he believed long forgotten-sugary juice seeping through lovingly drawn lines and erasing them forever. He squeezed his hands into fists without meaning to, the ghost of broken skin and scratches as sharp on his senses then as they had been so many years ago.

2012

The first RFA party was a resounding success, which came as a surprise to absolutely no one. The past few months had been a flurry of activity and organisation, communications and last minute checks. It was satisfying to see the culmination of everyone’s hard work, even if he was exhausted at the end of it.

Jumin was only too happy to take a break as the auction came to a close. He left the hall and took a seat in the kitchen, wiggling his toes and flinching at the soreness of his feet.

He couldn’t wait to get home and check his emails, his neglected cell phone burning a hole in his pocket. He reached to switch it on, considering that it would only take him a matter of minutes and it wouldn’t offend anyone if he was very much alone.

As the phone screen lit up, the door opened and he quickly moved to hide it in his pocket, only to change his mind when he saw who had interrupted him.

It was V, closing the door behind him with just as much relief as he had only a short time ago. He squeezed his eyes shut and loosened his tie, visibly startled when he realised he wasn’t alone.

“Oh, Jumin,” he said, every ounce of tension leaving his body. “I didn’t see you there.”

The irony of it wasn’t lost on him; this was the first time the pair of them had been able to talk all evening. Every opportunity he had had to speak to V alone had been interrupted by patrons and Rika alike. Now that they were very much alone, he wasn’t sure what to say.

He had wanted to congratulate V on the success of the evening, though his own involvement in it left the compliment feeling shallow. In truth, the night was a success for both of them, yet left him feeling so empty that it was as if he had not had any sort of role.

“How goes the auction?”

“They’re about to sell the last item,” said V, taking a seat beside him. “I’m a little nervous, to be honest.”

Jumin knew the piece he referred to; the biggest and brightest photograph in the room. It was certainly beautiful and should have made him happy, but it was difficult to ignore the fact that the more colourful V’s photographs became, the more V himself seemed to bleed away into monochrome.

His style had changed and he had a different muse, but behind every layer of colour was the same desperation as before. Even his modesty was bittersweet; Jumin knowing all too well that it came from vulnerability just as much as it did humility.

He wanted nothing more than to stay with him, away from the rest of the party. They spoke almost every day, yet it felt as if years had passed without his notice. V was always busy, always out on one adventure or another with Rika.

“Come here,” he said, regret biting through his words even as he said them. “It’s your masterpiece. You should be there when it’s sold.”

V looked just as disappointed as he felt, but got up regardless, standing still as Jumin reached to fix his tie.

Jumin focused on the material, willing himself to keep quiet. He wanted nothing more than for Jihyun to stay, to let him know that he didn’t want to leave him behind any more than he wanted to be left.

He didn’t trust himself to stay quiet if V stayed behind with him; didn’t believe in heart of hearts that he would find the right words now that it mattered.

Jihyun reached out for his hand and Jumin froze in place at the unexpected warmth. He looked up at Jihyun in surprise, never once retracting his hands.

Jihyun’s gaze dropped to the floor, hair falling into his eyes and shielding him from view.

“Jumin, I…”

Jihyun squeezed his hands a little tighter, the silence between them as palpable as a winter breeze.

“I…”

Jihyun took a deep breath and then, as if reconsidering his words, let go of Jumin’s hands.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, forcing a smile so artificial that it looked far more like a grimace. “Don’t worry about it.”

He shook his head as if shaking away his thoughts and turned away to the door. Jumin watched as he rejoined the party, stepping back into the cacophony of strong perfumes and brightly coloured dresses, leaving the peace and quiet behind

2014

“Do you ever think about the way things used to be?”

V swirled the wine in his glass, watching the shift in colours.

“How so?”

Jumin wondered what had prompted the question. Up until a few moments ago, they had been comparing notes on V’s new exhibition and the pieces he meant to include.

“I don’t know,” said V, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I guess I’ve just been very nostalgic lately.”

“...are you drunk?”

“Maybe.”

He laughed bitterly and leaned back into the couch, never once letting go of his drink.

“Do you ever think about the choices you’ve made?”

Jumin raised an eyebrow at the question.

“Not especially,” he said. “I consider most of the pros and cons before trying to reach any true conclusions.”

“Of course,” said V. “That’s just like you.”

He took a sip of his drink, seemingly still deep in thought.

“Do you ever wonder what might have happened if we’d made different choices? If you hadn’t gone to work for your father...if you’d gone to live with your mother…” V paused, grimacing into his wine glass. “If I’d gone to live with mine.”

“A lot of those weren’t our decisions to make,” he said. “And even so...I think that we are the product of our decisions in the end. Even if we decided differently-if I abandoned my father’s name, for example-the person I am now would be drastically different and not necessarily for the better. I wouldn’t have had so many opportunities, financially or in terms of career. We might never have been friends.”

He glanced across at Jihyun, suddenly all too conscious of the tangent he had taken. He did not seem to mind, though, resting in his head in his hand to listen and raising his glass as Jumin fell silent.

“A toast, then,” he said, reaching to tap his glass against Jumin’s, “to living… with the consequences of our mistakes.”

He laughed out loud, apparently at some sort of private joke, before leaning back to swallow the rest of his wine. Jumin did not follow, watching as some of the liquid dribbled past his lips and onto his shirt, leaving a bright red stain behind that gave the impression of an open wound.

He wanted to ask what mistakes Jihyun could possibly be talking about, though said nothing in the end, instead reaching for the glass in his hand.

“I think you’ve had enough for one evening.”

Jihyun didn’t try and resist him, instead watching the abandoned wine glass with a dreamy smile.

“Jumin,” he said. “Do you ever wonder what might have happened if I’d never met Rika?”

In truth, he wondered almost every day what might have been. He wondered what might have happened if he had never urged Jihyun to see his mother; how things might have turned out if he had called Jihyun back on the night of the first RFA party.

He might say otherwise, but he already had a lifetime of regrets and definitely had lingered over the idea of a world where the pair of them had taken hold of their respective family businesses instead of steadily drifting apart.

“I think you’re definitely drunk.”

2016

Jumin didn’t know anything about medicine, but he knew a dead body when he saw one. His guards had reassured him that he would have needed a surgeon and full operating theatre even if they had gotten there in time.

“Sir,” said the nearest guard, voice trembling from both grief and nervousness. “We have to get going.”

“Just a minute,” said Jumin. “Just a minute more.”

Jumin didn’t know what had happened in the moments leading up to V’s death. He hadn’t heard his last words, nor gotten a chance to say goodbye. Strangely enough, though, neither of those things fueled his anger.

Nobody had moved Jihyun’s body from the place he had died, leaving him face down on the carpet and soaking the floor with blood from his chest. No one had taken hold of his hand and Jumin had to wonder if anyone had offered any gentle words at the time of his passing.

That, though, didn’t rouse his temper either.

Jihyun was looking right at him, but his gaze was far away, as if peering into the distance. Jumin was oddly reminded of the day he saw him in the hospital after his mother's death, staring off into space as if searching for answers in the walls.

Jumin wondered if he had ever truly left that room; how much of him still searched for the answers even in death.

Only now he was dead did he truly look relaxed, as if each one of his burdens and worries had finally left him, and that was what infuriated Jumin the most. He could think of nothing but his own words in 2002, that people were at their most irrational when it came to their loved ones. He wished he could take them back; wished he could plant any other idea in his mind but that one. At some point, without his notice, V had taken his simple observation and come to the conclusion that true love meant sacrifice.

He wanted to tell him what a fool he had been; wished he could take back each one of his mistakes. He wished he had intervened long before V met Rika, even if he knew the outcome would be the same.

Jumin closed his eyes and pretended the copper smell of blood was wine; that he and Jihyun were still in his penthouse and at the nostalgic stage of drunk.

For a second Jumin forgot Jihyun was sprawled across the throne room carpet and looked like a fallen prince. In that moment it was his friend in his arms instead of a body.

Of course it was disappointing when he opened his eyes again to find himself sitting on the floor, Jihyun slumped in his arms and growing colder by the second.

“Where are you?” Jumin whispered, as if Jihyun had lapsed into daydreams and nothing more.

He didn’t expect him to answer, yet still found himself disappointed when V didn’t open his eyes.

“Where are you?” He said again, shaking V’s shoulder.

He already knew the answer, much as it pained him to admit it. He had gone to a place Jumin could not follow; a place where it was never winter and permanently bathed in the smell of spring flowers.

2017

It took many months to find a buyer for Jihyun’s home. Despite every attempt to keep a lid on the situation, it was only a matter of time before its reputation as a suicide house became national news.

Jumin, of course, was deeply offended at the nickname. Despite rumours to the contrary, one had ever actually died there, deliberately or otherwise. Rika still lived, in a jail cell many miles from there, while V passed away in a castle, far from his own bed.

In truth, the idea of selling Jihyun’s house left him feeling uncomfortable, and he might never have gotten rid of it if the decision had been left to him. Chief Kim, on the other hand, was only too eager to be done with it and found a buyer after the house sat empty for many months. After V’s memorial and the RFA’s own goodbyes. Jumin was the only visitor.

The house remained untouched; rolls of film still left in random places and clothes folded at the foot of the bed. Jihyun’s house phone still blinked to warn of missed calls and his voicemail held a grand total of eighteen messages. He didn’t know how long they had been sitting there and couldn’t bring himself to find out.

Whenever he found a quiet moment, he returned to the house, sitting at the kitchen table and taking in the sound of the ocean outside. He remembered sitting there at the time of Rika’s disappearance, scrolling through his contacts for the number of a private investigator. V had always been reluctant to hire one, and only now that he was gone did he understand why.

After V’s death, most of his family and friends had held themselves at a distance, as if he might explode. They didn’t know what to say and he didn’t blame them. He had been in their shoes more than once, after all. They spoke on the messenger and at the memorial how much they missed Jihyun, but he had never fully been able to relate. He had, after all, missed V for many years, and most of all while he was alive.

When the final sale finally went through, he had little choice but to finally rummage through Jihyun’s possessions. Jaehee and Zen both offered, though he- perhaps selfishly- insisted that it had to be him. He didn’t want to miss any remnant of his best friend anymore than he wanted to miss any fragment of himself.

There was so many photographs and he looked over them last of all, packing every album and loose picture into boxes, examining each before setting the boxes outside of Jihyun’s front door. He had been there when he died, yet still expected him to come through the door at any moment, confused by his empty home.

The last photo sat at the back of V’s wardrobe, crumpled behind a shoe stand and it ripped as Jumin fished it out. His blood ran cold when he saw what it was-a photograph of Jihyun sitting at the shore with a shell pressed to his ear. He recognised the photograph only too well; still remembered the moment he had taken it.

The strength left his legs and he sank to the floor, the impact of Jihyun’s absence hitting him all at once. They would never go to the beach again-Jihyun would never see how gently the sunlight kissed his hair. He would never again lift his camera, never again pore over the colours of the sky, and Jumin found himself hating him for it.

He moved before he realised what he was doing, storming out of Jihyun’s front door, down the cliffside and lifting each box of photographs to the sky, watching with a fluttering heart as they each took to the wind and landed across the water, too light to break the surface and floating out to sea in a cacophony of different colours-a portrait of a summer sky he would never see again and never wanted to.

Jihyun had died long ago, before ever picking up a camera. Only his body died at the castle and it filled Jumin with rage. He wished he could go back and smash each one of Jihyun’s cameras; take him by the collar and shake some sense into him before it was too late.

Wishes counted for nothing, though, in the grand scheme of things. It didn’t matter how often he wished; how many days he waited for Jihyun to come home; how many photos he cast out across the ocean. None of it mattered now that it was too late.

It was almost too ironic that he only really understood Jihyun now that he was gone. He finally understood Jihyun’s final toast-to regrets, and living with the consequences of their actions. He knew then that he hadn’t been drunk at all.

The water as cold at first and it sent a chill through his body. He stared ahead at the withered tree in Jihyun’s garden and abandoned photographs floating above him, decorating each branch in a flash of cover.

He closed his eyes with a smile, allowing the tides to take him, lulled into sleep by the knowledge that when he opened them again the blossoms would be real and winter would be over.

??????

“Jumin…”

Someone poked his cheek and he frowned, turning over onto his side.

“Jumin!”

That same someone reached for his shoulder and shook him, leaving him no choice but to open his eyes.

“Where am I?” He said, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. He head was spinning and stomach fluttering, every scent and ray of light hitting him all at once.

He was sitting under a tree, the perfume of its flowers gentle on his senses and petals scattered on the floor around him. His face was wet with morning dew and a five year old Jihyun sat next to him, laughing out loud at his confused state. Jumin reached out his hands, taking in their size and the pitch of his own voice, concluding that he was five as well.

Something about it struck him as strange , but he couldn’t quite figure out what.

“Don’t you remember? We’re at my mother’s house!”

Jihyun pointed across the lawn, towards a house surrounded by fruit trees.

“But...that house…” He said, confusion overtaking him again. “It burned down, didn’t it?”

He was sure he remembered the ashes and aftermath, yet could see it clear as day.

“What are you talking about? There’s never been a fire here.”

“No...I suppose you’re right.”

Someone emerged from the doorway of the house; someone he had seen before, though couldn’t quite remember when.

She waved to them both, motioning for them to come into the house.

“Come on, you two, it’s time for dinner!”

Jihyun jumped to his feet, beaming as his mother climbed the hill towards them.

“Coming,” he said, running towards her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “Say, did you make our favourite?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” she said, before glancing towards Jumin. He was sure he caught a flicker in her eyes-sadness, or something like it.

She reached a hand towards him, smile creeping across her face.

“Are you coming?”

Jumin stood up, linking his fingers in hers. For some reason, he still felt nervous. His chest was tight and he took a deep breath, turning back to look at the tree behind him. Its petals were beautiful, luminous pinks and golden hues shimmering in the light. Somewhat strangely, its highest branches had been decorated with hanging shoes, each carefully tied together like baubles on a Christmas tree, shifted gently by the breeze.

Something about it was both strange and reassuring, and he turned back to Jihyun’s mom with a smile, flooded with warmth as she stroked her fingers through his hair.

“I’m coming!”

"So what did you two get up to?” Jihyun’s Mom asked as they returned to the house. ‘Return’ being as strange word, as Jumin was sure he had never been there.

“We played the imagination game,” said Jihyun.

“Oh? And what did you imagine?”

“Iron Man flew away to Metropolis!”

“Just to see Superman?”

“Of course!”

#mystic messenger #mysme #jumin han #jihyun kim #juminv #jumin x v #one constant point of amusement #is that jumin is into iron man #since at the time he says he and v debated iron man vs superman #iron man wasn't mainstream #iron man wasn't mainstream until 2008 #it had an infamously bad animated series in the 90s #and i dont think it was very widely released or even known outside of murica #which just gives me the mental image of jumin rushing over to v's house #with dvds/vhs tapes of this hot new thing #and v sitting there like :| because it was genuinely terrible

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siverwrites · 6 years ago

Text

Fictober Day 23: Solitude Part 3

FFVI x Ghost Trick

And at last Part 3, finishing this off.

Part 1

Part 2

All the many thanks to @azurefishnets and @laughingpinecone especially for some specifics that made their way into this particular piece.

Day 100

Managed to get something out of the garden. Hope to get some of it going again; the plants continue to wither since that day.

Work progresses on the raft. It should be complete soon.

Went fishing.