#rosaria solace

[m00nbunny1]

Awwwwwwwww! This is so sweet, I love art where the whole family is involved, it's just nice. :)

I’m OBSESSED w Seb’s unnamed family. Very dear to me

Mak ( @doodledrawsthings ) and I did eventually give them names after much deliberation. Here's the post for that :]

But here are some more doodles I've done and haven't posted yet!

They're just catching up on lost time.

[idkfitememate]

Boar!creator visits the cathedral, and beats Barbara's stalker to a pulp I mean sings with Barbara :)

Barbara Encounter

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Boar Reader x Barbara

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 509

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff & Crack

Barbra was not prepared at all to meet this “Boar of the Wilds”. She was perfectly fine where she was, in the Cathedral, safe and sound.

Of course Barbatos had other plans - he was tired of the Boar only picking fights with him what could he say!

So as she sat there in the Cathedral, praying her little heart out, she was interrupted by screams from right outside the door.

She quickly got up and rushed to the door, only to see the very boar she was just thinking about roasting one of the members of her fan club to a crisp.

“Hey! Hey!! Stop that right his second!” She cried. And you did just that.

Though, before the man could ask Barbara for any kind of help, you kicked him down the stairs.

She pointedly looked at you with a small glare before speaking.

“You can not do that! Harming people in or by the Favonius Cathedral is a big no no! Now… shoo! Get out of here.” She made shooing motions with her hands to try and run you off, but you ignored them and walked right through the open doors, causing her to gasp.

She was quick to follow, about to start scolding you again, but found that you had sat yourself right in front of the pew, head down like you were paying respects.

“Do you… also believe in Barbatos?” She asked.

You jumped up and oinked happily. Now you would not usually go to church in your world - not say you didn’t believe but you were just a wee bit busy - but you did know that it was something Barbra believed in heavily. And adding the fact that you kinda fucked with Barbatos damn near on the daily…

You nodded which caused her to gasp and throw her hands to her mouth. Perhaps you weren’t that bad after all!

“Well I too believe in our Lord of Anemo! Perhaps I could sing you a tune? That of which it is said our God also sung as he soared above the cloud?” Her hands clasped in front of her as she bent down to your height, and again you quickly nodded.

“Alright then! It’s starts like this…” and her heavenly voice began to ring out through the halls.

You sat with bated breath as she sung, beginning to sway a little to the beat. You eventually hopped up and began stamping your hooves to the beat as well, making little clinking noises as they fell onto the polished floor.

And finally you began to sing with her. The Deaconess giggled as your squeals and oinks harmonized with her voice. The sisters of the church watching from afar, covering their giggles with hands and smiling at you two having fun.

Rosaria watched from the shadows. Not usually likening to spend her time at the church- despite being a nun - but finding hilarity and solace at the scene before her.

Maybe you were just what was needed to help destress their darling Deaconess.

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Venti totally heard you outside and was like: “Even??? The nuns???? Like that stupid boar????? I thought they were on my side >:(“

No Venti, you fucking coffee cup, they were never on your side ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

[riotseas]

where lord commander meets first shield, for @taleswritten

Though opposites of the realm, parted by both land and sea; word travels fast and actions takes faster.

Rosaria and Waloed really, have little to no reason for conversing. What with the western side of the Twins, the Duchy's surrounding nations have either been at war or hostile with their kingdom. It's better to leave them be rather than stir up any more bullshit.

The thing is, Odin—The King, never does something without reason. He's a smart man, if he were any less than that he wouldn't have been able to take control of Ash in its entirety. So, his people have no other option but to trust their ruler—an astounding feat or debilitating stretch of the country, Cid's not sure.

Strongly advised to keep his head on his shoulders, he does not question the orders from Barnabas sending him across Valisthea. However brimming with need for answers, he bites his tongue and leaves to pack. Who better to test the waters than Waloed's Lord Commander? Trusted and skilled enough in his own right to be where he is, Cid's also replaceable need be—the King is not. At any rate, it'd be a hassle to find anyone near his level, so he supposes that's ground enough to go along.

Cidolfus ships out a day after he's instructed, alone, yet relieved. It's not a recess, he knows that, but he can't help the solace he feels traveling without company. Normally he's steering a group, if not several, of soldiers near frothing at the mouth to get some action. They can get quite rowdy and downright obnoxious, and he's not so far gone in the ego of his position that he follows in suit so easily.

It takes about one and a half weeks to arrive in Rosaria. If he purposely avoided shortcuts and riding chocoback—well, he's certainly not going to feel bad. It gives both nations enough time to make their final preparations anyhow, and provided that the Duchy became combative, a stolas would've made his way days ago. So, he assumes the exchange went well.

His status isn't one he ever thought he'd be in charge of, nor is it one he goes around shouting about; but it comes with its perks. Whispers of the infamous ' Lord Commander ' start up before he's even reached the gates, and by that point there's a flock of guards that have definitely left post just to watch him waltz in. There's no fanfare, instead just escorts into the castle itself to greet Rosaria's highest.

The Archduke rises from his throne and merrily shakes his hand firm, grinning with bright teeth and crow's feet etched beside his eyes. He's as humble as the rumors describe, and speaks of his sons like they're the world. Introductions between him and the Duchess fall short when she leaves in wake of a headache, but Cid's not hurt. Not when he greets the nations' dominant and his loyal first shield.

❝ If I'm honest, it's a little daunting to be in the presence of the Phoenix. Not to mention his kin. ❞

The youngest, all golden and sweet, speaks.

❝ Joshua. Joshua is fine. ❞

Cid laughs and nods, ❝ Okay, Joshua it is then. That means— ❞ He turns to the boy next to him, standing at attention and very clearly trying his best not to stare. ❝ You must be Clive, yes ? Youngest first shield ever, so I've heard. ❞

Joshua immediately pipes up again, almost bursting at the seams to sing his brother's praises. Where their father made it a point to talk like equals, the youngest son has no problem boasting about Clive's accomplishments—reciting the training he'd watched just this morning with such childlike wonder he can't help but wish he was there himself.

It's rude, Cid knows, but he hasn't truly looked at Joshua as he spoke. Rather, he looks at the man he speaks of, taking in everything he has to offer. Clive is five summers older than Joshua, but doesn't really wear the appearance of someone as such. Smaller than he thought, though clearly very skilled in his labor; he's toned, rough where it counts and soft in the face. He's handsome, chivalrous, bearing an almost uncanny resemblance of their father.

Cid's intrigued, to say the least.

[https-furina]

✎ are you drunk?

ft. venti x fem!reader

w.c. to be added

content: very short fluff content (more like a drabble honestly), mentions of alcohol, i’ll be fr this is based on an image i saw on pinterest so there’s not really much, established relationship, human!reader, kinda crack-ish, not proofread + not edited

you were more than accustomed to venti’s way of life by now - you’d been with him over a year, somehow. you’re not entirely sure who was putting up with who during times like these, when you’re stood under the dim yellowing light of the oil lamp in your shared kitchen, your hand clasping a glass of cool water. mondstadt was in the peak of its summer, humid and a little insufferable.

however you were also completely aware of venti’s true nature. he opened up about it one night (you had to debate if he was sober first) when you questioned him about his vision, the one that dangles on his hip and flaunts in front of non-vision wielders. “it’s fake,” the words came out his mouth before he could second think them. he remembers you staring at him in confusion - you had literally seen him use his anemo abilities how could his vision be fake? that’s when he sighed, clasping one of your hands in his as he uttered nothing but the truth, telling you his deepest secret of being an archon.

the hands of the clock tick in the silence as you leaned onto the kitchen counter. you wondered momentarily if you should throw on your shoes and hunt the mondstadt city taverns for your boyfriend but suddenly there’s a rambunctious amount of noise outside that could only belong to the archon and his two drinking buddies - kaeya alberich from the knights of favonius and sister rosaria from the cathedral, you’ve always figured she’d go into cardiac arrest if she realised the bouncy, loud mouth bard she drinks regularly with is the archon her whole occupation revolves around.

there are a few moments of solace again, their noise quietened into soft hushes with fingers pressed to their lips. your head turned towards the front door, you wondered if they’d realised the ungodly time of night they’d decided to scream one of venti’s infamous bard songs but then you heard it, almost as if it was in the wind blowing through your open kitchen window. venti is hushing them, his words slurring ever so slightly, “shhh, y/n is sleeping.” your lips curled subconsciously in a light smile, breathlessly laughing at the thought that your dearest archon had no idea you were still very much awake and waiting for him.

when the front door finally creaks open, venti is whistling a tune to himself, twirling dandelion seeds around him with a breeze - ones you knew you’d be picking up in the early hours of the morning - with a half finished bottle of wine in the other hand. turquoise eyes find yours and he’s startled, blinking as if he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or lack of sleep; is he hallucinating? huh, he could have sworn you’re usually asleep at this time.

“hey love,” you smiled at his confused state, eyes following him as he wandered into the kitchen to join you, “did you really need to bring the bottle of wine home with you?”

venti smiled sheepishly, placing it on the counter gently as if it could shatter and spill the precious liquid left inside.

“not necessarily, my windblume,” his petname for you leaves his lips in seconds, second nature to him as he lacks the energy to think, “it was attached to my hand - like a magnet!”

you hold your glass of water out to him, he debates why you’re offering this to him when he has wine right there, barely a fingertip’s grasp away.

“are you drunk?” the question is stupid, you know that but even when venti is mildly tipsy, he’ll understand the concept of water being good for him. right now, he looks bewildered you’d even suggest the idea when he could simply chug the bottle of master diluc’s infamous wine.

“no,” he pouted, lip jutted out in a feign innocence, “i’m a bard.”

© https-heizou 2023.

[systastic]

Hi dearest!❤️

Currently helping some sysmates as they just formed and loosely latched to some people, but! Would you be comfortable doing a Freminet and/or a Dahlia (Genshin Impact both!) alter?? It’s perfectly fine if not!!❤️

Lots of love, don’t forget to take care of yourself!! -⚰️🍎

ur brain has good taste -🐝

absolutely we can!! :3 n thank mew for the love ♡ -🍥

level 1 freminet

name :: freminet, emmett, elliott, claude, antoine, florent, issac, bastien

age :: 16 to 18

pronouns :: he/him, ce/cer, ae/aer, nae/nym

roles :: dissonaut, daydream inducer, emotional suppressor, entrancer, faucet

species :: fontanian pre-prophecy

gender identity :: quoigender ; deepseain & abyssgender

orientation :: queer, greyrose (alterous and sexual), polyromantic ; tends towards close bonds of friendship or romance over sexual ones. cy desires closeness to another person; whether or not it’s romantic doesn’t matter.

source :: genshin impact

level 2 dahlia

name :: dahlia, elio, cedric, benediction (ben), theodore (theo), finneas, jude, loretto/loreto, eredis

age :: physically 15 to 18 , mentally over several thousand years old (around for the end of the archon war and the installation of the church of favonius)

pronouns :: he/him, she/her, she/he (alternating), fy/fyr/fyrself, hal/hael/halo/haloself, bat/bats/batself

roles :: secret keeper, shusher, confuser, instigator, antagonizer, religious persecutor (unintentionally)

species :: human blessed by barbatos ; functionally immortal (tied to the church)

gender identity :: bigender

orientation :: achillean, apothisexual ; had a crush on barbatos/venti when the two first met

source :: genshin impact (leaks)

aesthetic :: fallen angel, gothic, vampire goth, darkest academia

appearance description :: in spite of his status as a deacon of the church of favonius, dahlia prefers shades of black and red to white and blue. it is this eclectic taste that sets her apart from the sisters: having such colors makes him stand out, drawing people’s eyes and ears in his direction. ben does not crave this spotlight. he would much rather grant it to the sisters as they can often help the people who visit more than dahlia can. hal is a bit of a recluse, and as such does not often think of what haels outfit looks like. this often causes confusion for visitors who meet the deacon as fyrs appearance is vastly different from what is expected. finneas secretly enjoys this momentary confusion. looking at him with that dumbstruck expression makes him feel like he could get away with anything.

personality description :: a bit of a brat and brutally straightforward, dahlia does not and will not beat around the bush. lengthy messages are a pain to receive and an even greater pain to write. he is fond of witty wordplay and jokes, and is a master of passive aggressive commentary. in truth, dahlia is somewhat manipulative in terms of not telling everyone the truth all of the time, and uses the church and its funds as a coverup for his real goals: discovering a way to end his immortality and return to being normal. he’s a bastard of a man who hides behind passive aggressive comments to avoid invoking the fury of others. people don’t defy him due to his status as the deacon, though — so he can get away with quite a bit. he does genuinely love the people and makes sure that the city knows this through special events, daily devotionals for those who desire it, and pardoning any supposed sins that citizens feel they have committed. (especially the fountain brother and sister duo.) he is fiercely loyal to the church and the sisters within - particularly rosaria due to seeing himself in her - viewing them as a sort of extended, everlasting “family” he can find solace in.

image source here

[1-800-c3dr1c]

CHARACTERS I WILL WRITE FOR

requests : open! (will slowly but surely get to them, i have lots of unfinished ones at the moment.)

emoji anons always open! taken ones: none so far <3

if in bold i much prefer to write for these characters more.

if in italics i will only write sfw content of them.

let me know if you’d like to be in any of these character’s tag lists to be tagged whenever i post anything related to them, whether it be in a post with them, under this post, or my inbox asks! <3

also, please ask questions (if you have any) about what i will write below! i will answer them all to the best of my abilities, but currently, i’m obsessed with writing yandere characters. (I DO NOT CONDONE YANDERE ACTIVITIES/TENDENCIES OR ANYTHING ELSE IRL.)

SHADOWHUNTER CHRONICLES :

theresa “tessa” gray. james carstairs. william herondale. magnus bane. cecily herondale. gabriel lightwood. charlotte branwell. henry branwell. jessamine lovelace. gideon lightwood. sophie collins. james herondale. thomas lightwood. cordelia carstairs. lucie herondale. anna lightwood. christopher lightwood. jesse blackthorn. grace blackthorn. matthew fairchild. alastair carstairs. ariadne bridgestock. charles fairchild.

SIX OF CROWS :

kaz brekker. inej ghafa. nina zenik. matthias helvar. jesper fahey. wylan van eck.

SHADOW AND BONE :

adrik zhabin. alina starkov. david kostyk. genya safin. malyen oretsev. nikolai lantsov. tamar kir-bataar. the darkling. tolya yul-bataar. soya nazyalensky.

GENSHIN IMPACT :

aether. albedo. alhaitham. amber. arataki itto. baizhu. barbara. beidou. bennett. candace. collei. cyno. dehya. diluc. diona. dori. eula. faruzan. fischl. freminet. ganyu. gorou. hu tao. jean. kaedehara kazuha. kaeya. kamisato ayaka. kamisato ayato. kaveh. keqing. kirara. klee. kujou sara. kuki shinobu. layla. lisa. lumine. lynette. lyney. mona. nahida. neuvilette. nilou. ningguang. noelle. qiqi. raiden shogun. razor. rosaria. sangonomiya kokomi. sayu. shenhe. shikanoin heizou. sucrose. tartaglia. thoma. tighnari. venti. wanderer. wriothesley. xiangling. xiao. xinqiu. xinyan. yae miko. yanfei. yaoyao. yelan. yoimiya. yun jin. zhongli.

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS :

percy jackson. luke castellan. annabeth chase. nico di angelo. grover underwood. clarisse la rue. will solace.

HONKAI: STAR RAIL :

arlan. asta. bailu. bronya. clara. dan heng. gepard. herta. himeko. hook. jing yuan. luocha. march 7th. natasha. pela. sampo. seele. serval. stelle. caelus. welt.

NIER AUTOMATA :

9S. 2B. A2.

THE SELECTION :

america singer. maxon schreave. aspen leger. marlee tames. celeste newsome.

THE MAZE RUNNER :

newt. gally. minho. teresa agnes. alby. chuck. thomas. aris jones. brenda. frypan. sonya. zart. winston. harriet. clint. jeff. ben.

HARRY POTTER :

lavender brown. cho chang. fleur delacour. cedric diggory. seamus finnigan. hermione granger. neville longbottom. luna lovegood. draco malfoy. harry potter. dean thomas. bill weasley. charlie weasley. fred weasley. george weasley. ginny weasley. percy weasley. ron weasley. oliver wood.

STRANGER THINGS :

eleven. mike wheeler. will byers. lucas sinclair. erica sinclair. max mayfield. dustin henderson. steve harrington. nancy wheeler. jonathan byers.

MEAN GIRLS :

regina george. karen smith. gretchen wieners. cady heron. aaron samuels. janis ian. damian.

ALICE IN BORDERLAND :

akane heiya. chota segawa. daikichi karube. hikari kuina. kodai tatta. mira kano. morizono aguni. rizuna an. ryohei arisu. shuntaro chishiya. suguru niragi. yuzuha usagi.

DIVERGENT :

beatrice prior. tobias eaton. caleb prior. peter. uriah pedrad. eric coulter. christina. tori wu.

THE HUNGER GAMES :

katniss everdeen. peeta mellark. rue. cato hadley. clove kentwell. gale hawthorne. primrose everdeen. finnick odair. johanna mason. young! coriolanus snow. sejanus plinth. clemensia dovecote.

SQUID GAME :

seong gi-hun. kang sae-byeok. hwang jun-ho. ali abdul.

ALL OF US ARE DEAD :

lee cheong-san. yoon gwi-nam. nam on-jo. lee su-hyeok. lee na-yeon. choi nam-ra.

THE WALKING DEAD :

daryl dixon. rick grimes. carl grimes. michonne. maggie rhee. shane walsh. glenn rhee.

MY HERO ACADEMIA :

shota aizawa. hizashi yamada. nemuri kayama. yuga aoyoma. mina ashido. tsuyu asui. tenya ida. ochako uraraka. mashirao ojiro. denki kaminari. eijiro kirishima. koji koda. rikido sato. mezo shoji. kyoka jiro. hanta sero. fumikage tokoyami. shoto todoroki. toru hagakure. katsuki bakugo. izuku midoriya. momo yaoyorozu. yosetsu awase. sen kaibara. togaru kamakiri. shihai kuroiro. itsuka kendo. yui kodai. kinoko komori. ibara shiozaki. jurota shishida. nirengeki shoda. pony tsunotori. kosei tsuburaba. tetsutetsu tetsutetsu. setsuna tokage. manga fukidashi. juzo honenuki. kojiro bondo. neito monoma. reiko yanagi. hiryu rin. mirio togata. nejire hado. tamaki amajiki. hitoshi shinso. mei hatsume. emi fukukado. camie utsushimi. keigo takami. rumi usagiyama. yu takeyama. tomura shigaraki. dabi. himiko toga. rody soul.

HAIKYUU!! :

kenma kozume. yu nishinoya. toru oikawa. tobio kageyama. tetsurō kuroo. kei tsukishima. shoyo hinata. kiyoko shimizu. kōtarō bokuto. asahi azumane. koshi sugawara. hitoka yachi. tadashi yamaguchi. ryūnosuke tanaka. hajime iwaizumi. daichi sawamura.

DEMON SLAYER :

giyu tomioka. mitsuri kanroji. obanai iguro. sanemi shinazugawa. gyomei himejima. muichiro tokito. shinobu kocho. kyojuro rengoku. kanae kocho. tengen uzui. kanao tsuyuri. tanjiro kamado. zenitsu agatsuma. inosuke hashibira. genya shinazugawa. aoi kanzaki. nezuko kamado. muzan kibutsuji. tamayo. yushiro yamamoto. susumaru. sabito. makomo. senjuro rengoku. hinatsuru uzui. makio uzui. suma uzui. kokushibo. doma. akaza. nakime. hantengu. gyokko. kaigaku. gyutaro. daki. enmu. rui.

THE PROMISED NEVERLAND :

emma. ray. norman. isabella. krone. don. gilda.

OBEY ME! SHALL WE DATE? :

lucifer. mammon. leviathan. satan. asmodeus. beelzebub. belphegor. diavolo. barbatos. luke. simeon. soloman.

YANDERE SIMULATOR :

ayano aishi. ayato aishi. osana najimi. osano najimi. amai odayaka. amao odayaka. kizana sunobu. kizano sunobu. oka ruto. asu rito. aso rito. muja kina. mujo kina. mida rana. mido rana. osoro shidesu. osorō shidesu. hanako yamada. hanakō yamada. megami saikou. megamo saikou. umeji kizuguchi.

TOP GUN :

pete “maverick” mitchell. bradley “rooster” bradshaw. jake “hangman” seresin. natasha “phoenix” trace. robert “bob” floyd. reuben “payback” fitch. mickey “fanboy” garcia.

[tragedy-of-commons]

nightshade's embrace

various genshin & gn!reader | ~4k

In which you face danger, fear, doubt, and eerie silence.

tags/warnings: horror, unreliable narrator, character death (la signora), canon divergence (la signora), mild depiction of blood (rosaria), depictions of karmic debt and insanity (xiao), uncertainty, mild body horror/grisly imagery, alternating past and present tense, not yandere so plz don't tag as that ty

notes: here is the genshin thing i was working on! it's by far my longest post, so i do hope you enjoy. basically me trying to make them scary in some capacity lol

Kazuha’s eyes are beautiful.

This is a popular sentiment shared amongst anyone who has the pleasure of meeting him. The ronin not only has a way with words, but with emotion itself; he can regale any folktale with ease, communicating the feelings and depth behind them effortlessly. His cherry eyes often light up with joy, close daintily with grief, and widen marginally whenever he weaves an unexpected twist into the story. Suffice it to say, he is a poet through and through.

You’ve always known him to put on a good show. Like every listener before you, you found solace in his presence, giving him more and more of your coveted attention each time he passed through. A wanderer like him has a near endless supply of material, his tongue not as ostentatious as silver but as something more humble, like copper. Ever genteel, ever open-minded, ever pleasant and welcome in your life.

You don’t know when your perception of him started shifting. You’re busy like every other participant in the game of life; work and your close relationships dominate the forefront of your mind, leaving little room for you to think of Kazuha in the way you do now. If you had to place the shift at any point, you’d err towards one of his visits as the catalyst.

Turns out if you tune out long enough during one of his stories, your attention can wander to the littlest nuances - a prime example being his eyes. They’ve always been gorgeous, reactive. Every gentle rise and fall of his chest is followed by a perfect change - a sequence of events that does not naturally stutter or stumble, like every imperfection of his has been painstakingly trimmed away for your viewing pleasure. Shallow breath in, flutter the eyelashes. Shallow breath out, squint in junction with the meter.

Your poker face is unimpressive, to say the least. Kazuha began to zero in on your lackluster reactions. He’d put talking on the backburner to address you in the crowd specifically, catering and attentive. He’d clear his throat (not like it was needed), and ask you if everything’s okay, or if the story was making you uncomfortable. Carmine irises searched and searched after, a smoothly downturned frown pulling his visage together. You’ve likened them to searchlights sweeping the ground for escaped convicts, rolling around in his skull like polished marbles.

This curried the eyes of your fellow spectators, putting you on absolute blast. No one else feels as if something’s off, probably being disappointed that their entertainment is being put on hold for someone who clearly can’t appreciate it in the way that they can. You’d surely feel the same way a few months ago, had another person in the crowd been unable to hide their displeasure; after all, who doesn’t like Kazuha? He’s charming and kind with a heart of gold. Any tale of his exploits is framed in such a way that you’d have to actively be looking for flaws to dislike them. 

…which is to say you’ve been doing exactly that. Your scant downtime became occupied with asking around about the dual-haired ronin, desperate for another perspective. Even if he puts you off in some way, you’d hate to be right, no matter how intrusive your gut feelings are. Most of what you pry out of people familiar with him are things like he’s such a doll, or he kindly saved me from a group of Nobushi during my travels! Not what you’re looking for. After all of that prodding, an uneasy feeling tickled your insides; if no one else has anything negative to say, why are you still worried? Why does something still feel so undeniably… wrong?

That feeling kept you pressing onward, in search of another answer. Your endeavors were rewarded with such after asking some of the older, wiser, and influential people you could track down. His surname, Kaedehara, apparently has some history left almost forgotten - a clan fallen from infamy. You’re reminded of the genuine longing in Kazuha’s voice, struck with a hollowness. It’s reminiscent of pounding on a wall like they do in the light novels, listening for the telling echoes of a secret room. Though he may have a disgraced or muddied past, that does not entirely satisfy you. That does not mean he is guilty of any wrongdoing. 

If anything, it endears him to you - frustrating. Are you just looking for reasons to hate someone who does not deserve it? Someone who can spin gold from nothing but meager goodwill? Are you trying to hate Kazuha just for the sake of doing so? What does that make you? All of your thoughts will not be consumed by something as dumb as this. Maybe it is because you live in Inazuma, where superstition often overlaps with reality - where yokai readily exist and where gut feelings could mean something beyond jealous paranoia. That must be it, you decide. You’ve gotten so bored with your own life that you’re wading through the already enigmatic waters and gawking at anything strange you find.

If there is something wrong with Kazuha, there has to be something wrong with you.

He starts seeking you out. In his words, he wishes to clear up any misunderstanding between you two; he’s seen you become uncomfortable in his presence over time, beginning to avoid his visits, beginning to ignore his greetings. Of course, he remains concerned throughout it all, trying to bury the hatchet. Nothing is off the table, whether it be paying for your lunch at food stalls, offering to be your protection should you venture into a perilous area, things like that. It’s unsurprising, given his charitable streak that you hear so much about.

You say yes each time. He makes good company, even if looking into eyes unnerves you and every protective measure your body offers screams at you to run away. However, you are the outlier, meaning that you must be the problem. 

This is the conclusion you will choose to stick to, if not just to sleep at night.

Kazuha’s eyes are beautiful. They do not remind you of dried blood, rust, or sweet rot. They do not remind you of harrowing loss or the pointless nature of digging holes just to fill them up again. They do not remind you of placating lies or scuffed carnelian.

They do not remind you of anything, you decide.

Sister Rosaria has always been something of a mystery. 

If you ignore the brusque attitude she boasts to the right people in certain taverns, there’s little you can glean from her. The little in question comes in the form of rumors that reach your ears through the grapevine that carefully connects each Mondstadter to one another; gossip circles galore that have nothing better to do than invent things close to ghost stories.

One you’ve heard more than once is that Sister Rosaria is something of a specter herself. 

You believe yourself to be rational. Despite how ridiculous the notion sounds, you understand where it stems from. Her corpse-esque pallor does her no favors, only accentuating her eyebags that would be fitting of a restless soul wandering the cavernous hallways of the Favonius Cathedral. She is striking, to say the least, and you don’t forget her face once you’ve seen it. Visiting the church for prayer as one does, you’ve spotted her loitering outside a few times, smoking and wallflowering and whatever it is that actually does.

These glimpses of Rosaria are a slippery slope. You’ve caught yourself wanting to go over and introduce yourself - feet moving on their own like she has her own unique type of orbit. Needless to say, the conversation that she allows you to hold with her is sparse. If you ask her about work, she scowls like you’ve personally slighted her. If you fill the silence with something she doesn’t want to hear, she doesn’t listen. Trying to be her friend started as a fruitless endeavor, leaving you bereft of reward in any capacity.

Sister Rosaria is not a specter, ghoul, ghost, or phantom. You think she is a misunderstood woman that keeps to herself too much, and that’s that. The only times you actually get through to her would consist of your ramblings about life; your passionate and animated love for your nation, your plans for the future, everything that you’d think she’d hate, given her attitude. But she listens attentively then, no drags taken, no barbs or jabs at your expense.

That’s something you can work with. Her company becomes something you cherish, and you like to think of yourself as her friend - with you hoping she thinks of you the same way. Camaraderie that goes beyond banter with drunkards and halfhearted arguments with her fellow Sisters. Connection that’s a bit more than what she has with Barbatos, which… isn’t saying much.

Even with these new developments, whispers still reach your ears. These are different from the ones before, going from rumors that anyone would shrug off after a few days to something that would persistently stick to you like glue - a thorn in your side that only wedges itself deeper when you try to dig it out. Things like I saw her sucking someone’s blood after service, and our church is no place for her nighttime activities. 

At first, it’s a bit laughable. Just because she can be a bit uncanny under specific lighting does not mean that she’s a vampire. It makes sense that the narrative surrounding her would shift over time. Those types of creatures aren’t even real. Just because Mondstadt is home to a selection of fantastical creatures doesn’t mean that these rumors have any basis in reality. You are better than to think that of somebody you consider close.

…until you aren’t, that is.

When the maw of the Cathedral swallows you whole, you feel regret crawl and prickle up the path of your spine. The curiosity that leads people astray has certainly maintained its grip on you, steps echoing throughout the building after you hauled the heavy doors open with trepidation. It’s true that the church is open to all, even at odd hours (in case someone requires emergency healing, you believe), but that doesn’t mean that it’s welcoming.

The alluring light that normally illuminates the windows from the outside is absent, leaving you to stop in your tracks a few steps down the nave - which seems to stretch on endlessly. If there’s one positive emotion you feel, you’d name it as relief; the rumored vampire herself is nowhere in sight. Leave it to you to investigate silly gossip, huh?

That means you could leave right now. You could pivot on your heel and go home to get some much-needed rest. The idea isn’t as appealing as you’d like it to be, given that your head keeps swiveling about in search of something to substantiate the cold sweat beading on your forehead. Damn it all. 

The moonlight always makes for a beautiful sight in the plaza, but without the buzz of the Sisters and nocturnal church-goers, it’s watching you with eyes of speckled dust floating between the eaves of the ornate ceiling. It doesn’t take long after that for you to make your decision - home is safer. You suck in a breath and prepare to all but run back out onto the streets of Mond, but something just has to bait your eye.

Far into the crossing (too far), there are flecks of black spattered in a trail leading all the way to the altar. They almost blend into the floorboards, but they are distinctly a shade darker—

You spin around to leave, footsteps reverberating harshly off the various partitions and panels. You have seen too little but still not enough. Was this a trap of some kind? A trap to lure you in here? By the looks of it, someone has already fallen victim to curiosity, and you may be next—

Your running is shadowed - dwarfed, even - by a large silhouette that looks an awful lot like a jagged habit and tiara, canvasing the entire expanse of the stained glass window closest to your exit. The colors are dulled by the imposing outline of what you’re sure is Rosaria. This was the trap, it has to be. What else would you call this? Her head, as much as it bleeds into the rest of her body, looks to be sat on her thin neck with little stopping it from rolling off into the grass outside.

She’s out there waiting for you.

…you think.

Adeptus Xiao is as duty-bound as they come.

If you already didn’t hear a lot about him, you’d seen him around even less. Such is the nature of immortal pillars like him. Where is the mystique and reason in being ever-present when you’re deemed a silent protector by Rex Lapis himself?

But you’d like to think you know a bit more about him than the average citizen of Liyue. You’ve seen him a total of three times, and each instance has left a cataclysmic impact in their wake. Putting it into thought sounds ridiculous, which you’re aware of - but in the Nation of Contracts, your words are your forte that will lay as the reliable foundation to aid you in all of your pursuits.

The first time, you saw him in a dream.

It was cinematic in nature, but you weren’t in it at all; from what you remember, you were shown an aerial view of the many terrains of Liyue. They all melded together into something vaguely recognizable, legs of discolored land stitched together into one large mountain-plain-hill patchwork quilt. You couldn’t shift your view elsewhere, as if being bid to wait patiently for some big reveal.

At first, you wouldn’t call the reveal big. A hazy figure began to stalk across the ground, akin to a fly aimlessly buzzing about, trying to escape towards somewhere greater than where it’s trapped; what you remember most clearly about the scene is that he was enveloped in this dark miasma that weighed down his every step. There was little sound in this dream, but you recall a guttural growl torn from his throat.

He was struggling. You don’t know what with, but something as simple as walking seemed to be too much. He passed directly under your vantage point, top of his head somewhat visible under the wisps of shadow clinging to his form. A polearm was clutched in his grasp as he hauled himself up a steep incline and began looking around, body heaving like he was about to cough up a vital organ.

You knew then that he was not human. You’d never seen anything like it. A thing so predatory yet wounded. You didn’t even get a good look at his face. Maybe there was a mask in place, but then again, that stuff sticking to him did a pretty good job of impeding your immediate judgment.

When you woke up, your chest rose and fell at a pace comparable to his. It stuck with you.

The second time, you saw him at Wangshu Inn.

A lone figure perched on the balcony railing, entirely similar but also entirely different. There was no parasitic evil hanging off his back, so his normalcy was on full display. Impressionable teal-streaked hair, glowing eyes of amber, and a polearm standing tall in his grasp. You’d heard rumors about the inn, of course, and who lives there, but the reality was just sinking in at that point. 

He, vigilant and regal, quickly snapped his head in your direction when you were caught staring up at him from the ground, your back to the breathtaking scenery. He scrutinized you with his lips pressed into a thin line before swiftly vanishing into smoke. He, Adeptus Xiao, was the one from your dream.

A chat with the owner confirmed this. Armed with this information, you, in truth, had no idea what to do. Verr Goldet made a point of mentioning that he’s reserved, actively avoiding crowds and anything he deems a nuisance. Pestering an Adeptus of all things is the last thing you wanted to do, so you opted to move on with your life. The dreams of Xiao frequented most of your sleepless nights, an omen of what, you weren’t certain.

The third time, you saw him in the mirror.

…well, something like him. You see the dark circles pressed into the skin below your eyes from lack of rest. You see your chapped lips (when did you start picking them?) and you definitely see the tremble of your shoulders staring back at you. You think of Xiao, slogging through your nation in search of miscreant fowl to punish - any threat to Liyuean citizens silenced under the tip of his spear. A sense of foreboding washes over you, numbing the tips of your fingers.

Serving as a protector of this nation may be the only thing saving him from ruin by his own hand. After all, a soldier burdened by karmic debt is far better than a potential enemy wracked with bloodlust. 

You look like him. You feel like him. If Adeptus Xiao is trying to share his burden with you, for whatever reason, you aren’t noble enough to be a part of it. There are voices of old whispering in your ears, taunting and angry and vengeful. Sometimes they peter off into screams that only you can hear. It’s too much, causing you to stumble back from the sink, head thudding against the wall.

That does you no favors. There’s no pain yet, but spots plague your vision, blotting out the familiar sight of your home. If you’re concussed, then you need to seek medical attention, but there’s more to it than that. The disembodied spirits are still here, crooning at your form - were they always there? There’s a small part of you that agrees with the notion, even as you fight the ailments. Maybe this has always plagued you—

No, no, no, no.

…you need to do something. Through the fog, you squint at your reflection to make out tendrils of smoke swimming in lazy circles like sharks. You slide your back against the wall, effectively crumpling against the bathroom floor.

Pleading, you whisper his name.

If he answers, you are not conscious to realize it.

La Signora is feared by anyone that possesses even the smallest iota of self-preservation.

You don’t know what that says about you. You know that if you keep flanking to her side (and if she keeps letting you), it would spell out your downfall in elegant calligraphy. Her attention is boiling at times; you feel yourself being choked out by the flames of her passion. If this surge of heat comes from her love, you don’t want to imagine what her wrath looks like, hurtling towards her enemies.

You think that the heat is unpleasant for her, too. Rosalyne kisses you each time like it will be the last, smooth palms coveting the apples of your cheeks. If it were not for the biting cold of Zapolyarny Palace, something like a cliche rendezvous point - you’d turn to ash in her hands. She knows this, because Rosalyne has had many years pass her by. Everything that burns will someday extinguish, she tells you, whispered between stolen kisses and hushed conversations.

You wouldn’t mind fizzling out if it meant you could have more of her, but she’s always refused you. The eighth harbinger is known for being lethal, but with you, she’s deceptively gentle. Cautious. You have a suspicion you’ve worsened the effects of her power, stoking a Pyro magic that can only be pacified by a pernicious Cryo.

The chill following your intrigues is unbearable. The stretches without Rosalyne are just as tortuous as the stretches with her, yet you still wouldn’t trade it for anything. You wouldn’t trade her, even if she stares gaping holes through you after pulling away, wishing you were someone else. Fine by you. If you are to be undone, you hope it is grand. You hope it’s grand to be stomped out by the consequences of her loving again.

…but it doesn’t come. It may be wrong to let your guard down, but pretending like the nature of your relationship is normal is addicting. She sends you gifts wrapped in red tissue paper and signed with her initial - her real one, which you’re actually given the privilege of knowing. She lays her head in your lap and begrudgingly lets you thread your fingers through her hair. She only tells you about her day if you ask. Rosalyne is a private person, when it comes down to it. You know better than to pry, that she loves you in her own way; it makes sense you’re comfortable enough to forget the stakes at hand. Anyone would do the same.

However, you can only go so long without being reminded, if the sight of your clandestine lover thrashing on the ground is anything to go by. It aches. It aches like you’ve been punctured by a dagger, stabbed and gutted and horrified that she’s been reduced to…

Rosalyne has been described as monstrous by underlings before, but this is a bit on the nose. There are six-phased stakes of ice plunged deep in her eye sockets, the noise of her manicured nails clawing at the floorboards accompanied by a terrible shriek. Frost hisses and crackles, accumulating in clusters against the underside of her jaw. Bile begins to climb up your throat because it looks and sounds to be unimaginably painful. You want, no, need to move, but—

You don’t know what’s happening. You’ve screamed and screamed for help, paralyzed and helpless at her side while she struggles in futility. It seems that your meeting spot came back to bite you, because there is no one around to help; you’re not sure what could even stop this. Your heart clenches painfully when she looks at you (as well as she can), head sloping upward, stiff and weighed down by the ice that’s hellbent on consuming her whole.

Tears roll down your cheeks. The hysteria is unforgiving, you can’t even move your legs—

The freeze nips at your heels. That’s why you’re rooted to the ground, you realize, seconds too late; it’s also creeping up your legs with a vengeance. Is this a product of her Delusion? You’ve heard stories about corruption, but nothing like this. Nothing ever like this. Rosalyne’s teeth gnash as they’re blanketed and then smothered by the ice, breaths coming out in frigid plumes. You can only scream more as you’re sinewed together, closer than ever before.

She’s the furthest thing from Rosalyne, La Signora, The Fair Lady - whatever you want to call her. Dread crystallizes the tears now plastered to your cheeks, thinking that you’re next, and that she is already gone. Is it punishment that binds you together in this embrace of stinging frost? Your penance for breaking the rules?

Yes. You’re being made examples of; sculptures erected for naive souls to gawk at, warning them about the dangers of loving someone you’re not supposed to. Your joints creak and groan, protesting your movements and becoming less responsive as you get even colder. It takes your eyes next. You cannot see as you once could, but you can hear the circulation of your blood and your rabbiting pulse, stunted as you are.

You are not to be stomped out - no, that would be too merciful. 

Whatever left of you and Rosalyne will serve as a reminder: Love is not for the faint of heart.

taglist: @flower-yi, @moineauz, @aphrodict, @nomazee, @singularity-sam, @harque, @thestarswhisper

[phoenix-flamed]

@roseire asked: ❝ So sleep in your only memory of me, my dearest. ❞ | Silent Hill Lyric Starters

The dilapidated audience room was silent, empty aside from the two of them. Any grief the man would have otherwise felt at the sight of what had become of his former home was replaced with anger -- burning so intensely within his breast. It acted as kindling for the flames of hatred which threatened to consume him.

Miles -- no, Elwin would not tear his gaze away from the woman. The Holy Empire's former Empress. The scourge of Rosaria, far more devastating even than the Blight itself had been.

Beneath the collar he wore to cover it, that old scar encircling his neck began to burn too; rather than flinching or reaching up to it, his face contorted into a scowl. Lips pulled back, revealing gritted teeth. Though his head tipped slightly downward, those darkened eyes never strayed from Anabella, daring her to move or to speak.

Daring her to give him a reason to draw the dagger sheathed at his thigh, the hilt upon which one hand rested in preparation.

"You have no right to be here," the disgraced royal warned. "Not after everything you have done, Your Grace. Monster. Murderer. Snake in the grass."

Elwin stepped forward slowly. Each footfall that brought him closer to the former Duchess dredged up more and more unwanted feelings, fleeting reminders of times long dead from another life. Her words echoed within his very soul as effortlessly as they echoed throughout the walls of the throne room: So sleep in your only memory of me, my dearest.

"My memory of you has been overtaken with fire and grief. Sleep brings me no peace, no solace -- I dream only of that night, and of the faces of the dead. Ever since my liberation, do you have any idea how many of your messes I have aided in cleaning up? How many of our people -- friends, all, who looked to us for guidance and protection -- I have helped in burying after your men slaughtered them in cold blood? How many horrific stories were relayed back to us by our fellow Cursebreakers out in the field?"

The more he spoke, the more his anger mounted, and the more his voice raised until he was damn near yelling. "Auldhyl. Eastpool. Countless other villages, and still more terrified to incur your wrath lest they be next. Lives snuffed out as if they meant nothing, just like at Phoenix Gate," he snarled, and his tone was laced with venom borne of emotions that he never would have thought himself capable of. "Even our own children, their lives destroyed by your machinations. Isn't that right, Anabella? Or did you forget about them, too, when you started your new life in Sanbreque?"

[ruiinationx]

Name: Joshua Rosfield

Activity level: tertiary - low

Faceclaim: tba

Content: Final Fantasy XVI

Age Range: 20s

Pronouns: he/him

Summary: Joshua was the second son of the Archduke of Rosaria. He awakened as the dominant of the phoenix, which made him the next in line for the thrown. Despite this, Joshua was a sickly boy. Sheltered and under intense pressure, he found solace with his best friends, his brother and Jill Warrick (his father's ward).

When he was only 10, the duchy fell and he was attacked and nearly killed. He was rescued by a religious order that was closely tied with the duchy and worshiped the Phoenix. From that point on, he lived in hiding and slowly tried to uncover the truth behind the tragic events that took his family from him and to protect his brother from the shadows.

Abilities:

Aesthetics: link

Playlist:

Verses:

main verse: tba

Connections:

Jote (@nivaera) - Friend/Colleague/Crush

[flamesire]

It's plain that Clive finds no comfort or solace in being here, even if Joshua is with him. This city could never compare to Valisthea, nor could it ever hold a candle to the feeling of home Rosaria provided for either of them. Stripped off all familiarity of the land they once knew, Joshua understands all too well how jarring of an experience this is going to be and doesn't expect Clive to adjust well or even willingly. But in due time, coupled with finding his way in this world, was faith that the younger prince held onto. His brother would find his way, just as he was starting to find his own.

The secret, however, already weighs on him. Clive's vague suspicions of him are obvious and as much as he tries to tell himself that he's doing the right thing, had he not yelled at Clive for bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders? Was this not in the same vein? He doesn't dare think further on it, lest it only serve to weaken his resolve. The time will come when he tells his brother everything that transpired, but now was not that time.

"You should meet her eventually, yes. I've spoken of you into many a late night, putting a name to a face would be good for her." Life-changing revelations aside, Joshua brightens at the mention of Clive wanting to meet the woman who had effectively saved his life. Though he feels a bit embarrassed as well admitting that he'd spoken so much about him, perhaps a little too much. "If you kneel or attempt to kiss her hand, however, you may receive the hard end of her staff. I learned that the hard way."

And then comes the insistence of looking after him. As much as he appreciates it, he doesn't miss Clive's coddling, but he'll accept it for now and only for a limited time. "You do not need to look after me. I've survived this long without you, have I not?" Granted, only with the help of the Undying, but who's keeping track? "Besides…I could say the same for you. Maybe we ought to look after each other. It would save Jill a headache and a half, don't you think?"

There's so much running through Clive's mind, there's a part of him that wants to throw up from how overwhelming everything is. But he swallows everything back and lets out a shaky sigh, only nodding his head at Joshua's words of Jill's arrival. He just has to hold out. Just has to hold out...

He doesn't want to, though. He needs to get back to her. Get back to where they had left off. He grits his teeth as his fingers curl into a fist, trying so hard to fight back these feelings.

He eventually lets himself ease up, knowing that yelling about things won't do any good. He focuses his attention back onto his younger brother. "Aye. Seems like I'll be needing your guidance once again." He's not particularly fond of the words that follow Joshua, but arguing with his brother of how ideal this city is will lead them nowhere, he knows that. The fact that Joshua seems so intent on getting them settled here... has Clive asking questions though.

But his younger brother wouldn't lie to him, he concludes yet again.

( or maybe he's just trying to tell himself that. )

Clive listens, crossing his arms and taking in Joshua's words. Lady Akiudo. So, Joshua's made a comrade here - that's good, at least he knows he's in good hands. And from what he alludes to, this woman knows her way around magical illnesses and curses. But why was he in such a bad condition? His illness certainly had its drawbacks and there were times where Joshua would keel over from it, but most of those ailments had mostly been mended thanks to Jote and Tarja's combined efforts.

The rattling of questions in his head worsens, and he tries to quell it down by focusing on the information presented to him. "I'll have to thank her, for keeping you stable. It's what I should do as your older brother." He's not sure if Lady Akiudo would appreciate a grown man practically kneeling to her, thanking her for looking after his younger sibling, but he does need to thank her regardless. "I'll be sure to take some of the burdens off of her by looking after you as well. because Founder knows you're stubborn about these things."

So was he, but this wasn't about him... at the moment.

[windblooms]

heyy ^_^ so I saw your requests were open and I hope this isn’t too specific or anything but what if you did the fake dating trope with the genshin girls? we don’t have enough content for genshin girls HSSKEHDJ /hj

genshin girls × reader; reader's gender isn't specified.

blurbs of beidou, eula, hu tao, and rosaria in a fake/pretend relationship.

warnings for light angst.

✧ ⁠— beidou's presence is anything but subtle by your side. the fleeting glances you steal are snatched without a second wasted, trophied in her palm, and flaunted for all to witness. she's good at this, really – this pretense of boasting, of showing off her significant other as if the two of you together is the most natural occurrence in the world. her ease prompts you to wonder if she gets any joy out of this: of strolling down the shore with her arm linked through yours but never lingering, eating dinner by your side yet never conversing, or even wishing you a good morning. a "good morning" in routine, devoid of deeper caring, and regrettably hollow. beidou holds your name like a bouquet of flowers on the precipice of wilting. she's thankful for the display of affection – but the gratitude is cursory, with attachments short-lived, just as the remaining lifespan of the blossoms.

✧ ⁠— eula has her own methods that you dare not question, lest you suffer from her vengeance. she treats you just as she treats anyone else, albeit with the promise of company that extends past the required favonius hours and into the shared home. you have to look the part, she briskly elaborates. after all, no one will believe that a descendant of the lawrence clan would settle for mediocrity or modesty. her logic is sound enough; you eat your meals together, accompany one another to your offices for the day, and speak with the utmost pride about your union. there is nothing to hide, except for the reality of what is transpiring between the two of you: the prettiest dance, with all of the enchanted fabrics and humble curtsies one can display. eula is awe-inspiring, just as the northern breeze that carries dandelion seeds afar. but no more, she can't be any more than that to you, unless you want to be swept away for good.

✧ ⁠— hu tao never relents with her scheming. if you hadn't known better, then you'd probably believe that her meddling travels too far, too insensitively. but there's a charm about her: she enjoys every breathing moment, every day, and all that it holds. and that includes you, even if you're also apart of one of her . . . wilder pranks. but live it, she pats you on the shoulder, peaking her head from around you. so you do, welcoming each hand-squeeze she requests, each tangled hug in the presence of onlookers. she's absolutely burning, an inferno that's barely contained in your arms. it's a fire that you admit to her, one day, that you've grown attached to. your limbs are light, submerged in a stream of giddiness; and she swims with you, still alight, still bright. hold out a bit longer, she punches your cheeks, a smile of all teeth on her visage. a big surprise is coming up. you need to enjoy it, too!

✧ ⁠— rosaria treats you like you're a lost puppy. a very cute, lost puppy. one with big, pleading eyes, and an open heart to a fault. while she grumbles and mumbles and complains under her breath, she'd never outwardly admit that she's fond of your company. if her companionship to you severs the . . . other's attachment towards you, keeps you safe from their unwanted attention, then she's more than willing to ward them off – despite, of course, her curt verbiage and monotonous glances in response to whatever you tell her about your day. she listens to you – as if you're a melody that isn't imposed upon her by the church, one that solace nests in with a gentle sigh. although her keen intellect shudders at the thought of anything further than basic associates, rosaira doesn't mind the idea of you being an exception. this is her fondness: swathed in scarves and blankets, tucked safely inside, and never to be exposed to the outside. she thinks that, even if you don't consciously notice, you're somewhat aware of her sentiments . . . even if they are the most roundabout in the land.

[tavvattales]

hii it would mean so much if you were to write romantic ei and rosaria and platonic scara comforting reader who is grieving over a close family member and them holding reader when they cry? no pressure! have a nice day!

Of course, sweetie pie~ here you are 😘🥰

-----------------------------------------

Lost days without them. .

GENSHIN IMPACT Character x GN!Reader Headcanons

Characters: Ei(Romantic), Rosaria(Romantic), Scaramouche(Platonic)

Pairings: Ei x GN!Reader, Rosaria x GN!Reader, Scaramouch x FriendGN!Reader

Warnings: ⚠️ Loss of a loved one, grief, please read at your own risk ⚠️

Taglist: @stygianoir

Click below for more

Ei

She offers sincerity.

Knowing what it's like to lose a loved one, Ei comforts you, holding you close. Offering you words of sincerity while drying your never-ending tears, for she was once in your shoes, wishing desperately to take this pain away from you, wishing she had the power to turn back time, just for one last moment with your lost loved one. She peppers your tear-stained eyelids with soft kisses, never letting go.

"While they may not be on this plain no longer, forever, they will live on in our hearts."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rosaria

She offers you solace.

Pulling you close to her, she positions you on her lap, wrapping her arms around your waist as you sob. Just simply existing in this moment, longing for peace at last, but knowing it will be a long ride ahead. Rosaria doesn't speak, letting your grief flow through you as she nuzzles you close, fingertips gently making circles around your back, finally, she speaks.

"Your loved ones memories will flow through you, keeping them alive. So tell their story."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Scaramouche

He offers you a warm hand.

Seeing you like this makes him angry. Angry that he couldn't do anything to prevent the death of your loved one. He's silent for a while, offering his hand for comfort as you desperately cling to it, pressing it to your forehead as you sob. Festering in his anger, it soon comes riddled with guilt and sorrow, wanting nothing more than to see you smile again, for you are his precious friend.

"They aren't gone forever; their soul and heart live on in you as you cherish your memories of them."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[princealberich]

yknow it seriously makes sense that kaeya and rosaria are such good friends. Both grew up in a world of darkness and bloodshed, had responsibility thrust upon them at a young age, and were "rescued" by mondstadt... and yet, they both still feel like outsiders, so they take solace in the company of someone who understands.

[hanawrites404]

Another Genshin OC because why not✨✨

(a small warning. This story contains mentions of gore, imagery and infant death)

Name : Johnny (not real name)

Age : 520 years

Sex : Female

Sexuality : Bisexual

Zodiac Sign : Pisces (28th February)

MBTI : ENFJ

Occupation : Freelancer (mostly an adventurer though)

Height : 183 cm

Weight : 67 Kg

Relatives : Yae Miko (good friend)

Sayu (good friend)

Arataki Itto (soulmate)

Gorou (good friend)

Thoma (close friend with benefits)

Yoimiya (good friend)

Childe Tartaglia Ajax (love interest)

Traveller (travel buddies)

Beidou (best friend)

Zhongli (best friend)

Xiao (good friend)

Xinyan (good friend)

The adepti (good friends)

Qiqi (good friend)

Bennett (little brother figure, close friend)

Razor (little brother figure, close friend)

Fischl (little sister figure, close friend)

Kaeya (good friend)

Rosaria (good friend)

Venti (best friend)

Origin : Natlan, wanders around in different nations

Backstory : Johnny was an orphan, given away as soon as she was born, and has never had a chance to have a single glance at her parents, ever. She didn't even know what they looked like. There weren't any pictures or clues about them, and it seemed to be better that way.

To be honest, Johnny has had a 'normal' childhood since she came to the orphanage as a baby. She was raised by the housemothers, was well fed and taught manners and basic education, and eventually grew up to take up the position of her caretakers. She adored children and giving them a home where they would be loved and accepted sounded very tempting and promising.

Soon she found the one whom she was destined to spend her life with and therefore came the time of her marriage with the one she loved. After a fruitful year spent together with love and affection, their child was due to be born from the mother's womb. Both of them were excited for the baby, and all night they kept dreaming about how shiny their skin would be, and how bright their eyes would sparkle.

Unfortunately, a time came, that the man was compelled to leave his wife and go off to the war, and the woman was left alone. The battle lasted longer than anyone had expected, and with no one to support the pregnant woman, she had no choice but to give birth alone. The young couple and the child were fighting on the thin thread of life and death, to attain nothing but the luxury of peace and solace. To win the struggle of prevailing against all odds, and finally return home to the ones whom they call, family.

Alas, none of them survived. Neither the parents nor the baby. The father was impaled brutally by numerous swords and spears through his armour and his body was trampled upon by the enemies and their horses. The child was stillborn and perished before it could feel even a single ray of sunshine fall over its eyelids, now lifeless forever.

And the mother..........was gone. On the icy cold bed, blood and water surrounded where she lay and dirtying and soaking the sheets uncomfortably wet. It was awfully quiet in the room. So much that a man might go crazy if he stays inside for too long.

Hot sweat was running down her face, her oily hair was sticking to her moist skin. She was exhausted. The warmth of her skin was diminishing, her breath had started to end, and her heartbeat grew quieter and quieter till it just slammed down to pin-drop silence.

Now you may think she was finally dead. But what if I told you, that both the infant and the lady had magically disappeared that night? Right after a single string of lightning stormed down over the sky like a final brink of sanity cracking down to madness and chaos.

Powers: She was blessed by the gods. And they blessed her with eternity. But she was reborn, into something she never expected herself to be. Into a creature of the night, who rises as soon as the sun succumbs to rest. Into a malevolent spirit of vengeance, who hides in the darkest shadows and feasts on the blood of innocent men. Into a divine woman, who longs for love and fertility, for something she is cursed to never possess.

The lady collapsed on her knees near the damp soil, where her only child laid motionless under the cold mud, now in a state of everlasting and peaceful sleep. That sorrow and melancholy of losing a child had enveloped her heart like thorns tightly binding to the flesh. The sky was thundering, and rain was falling mercilessly on the woman as she succumbed to her bloody tears and the coldness. She clenched the only belonging of her husband she possessed. A red bandana he used to tuck his golden locks with. Now faded to dust.

That's when the gods noticed the night creature in her darkest hour, they were generous and kind. Pitying the devil's child under the rain, a stone of Vajrada Amethyst shone under the bandana, enclosed within the emblem of the nation of war. Johnny carefully looks under it, finding that she was given a gift. A vision.

And that's when she set back up again, tying the crimson bandana around her head, secured and tight. Her vision strapped to her leather scarf's charm. She moved forward. She moved fearlessly.

She keeps a claymore as her choice of weapon. Being a flexible gymnast herself, she prefers the weapon to be as strong and bendable as her too.

In her elemental skill, she throws an infused ball of electrical energy over the enemy which would continuously deal elemental damage to the enemy it is attached to. If the enemy falls, the ball just transfers to the next enemy which has the highest HP.

In her elemental burst, she would throw her claymore infused with electro energy like a boomerang, and once she gets it back, she launches herself up from the ground and delivers a ground-shaking slam with her claymore, dealing both physical and elemental damage, along with decreasing the defence of the enemies.

Her constellation is rabidus Turcia. It's a turkey spreading its wings, ready to fight.

Interesting Facts: Her favourite colour is a galaxy. Her favourite season is summer.

Personality: Johnny is a very outgoing woman. She is the type of person who just loves to be the centre of attention and would be the life of the party. She is extremely flamboyant but gets embarrassed when people compliment her a lot. She loves making new friends (anything to make herself feel less lonely) and is a very forgiving person. As long as they don't do anything that damaging. Otherwise, get ready to face her colder side.

Voice Claim: 💗

Her favourite food is wild rice and her speciality food is cedar plank salmon.

Johnny doesn't like the archon of her vision. She thinks that the Shogun is childish and immature for starting the whole vision hunt decree and civil war, and for endangering her people in their land.

Being a night creature, Johnny doesn't sleep. But she does rest by hanging at one of the ceilings and closing her eyes for a moment. It relaxes her.

Some people mistake her for a vampire, but she is not since she can stand under the sun and is not affected by garlic, and any other things that cause harm to vampires.

She hates salty food. Her throat burns when she eats such meals.

She smells like burnt wood, soaked grapes and iron metal.

Appearance: Johnny has straight long purple hair and amethyst with a shine of turquoise for her eyes. She has a few dark moles on her cool ivory face and rosy lips. She has a black tattoo of a demon's mask with flowers on her left arm. She is pretty muscled and towers over almost everyone. Sometimes, her fangs sprout out and her eyes glow when she is angered. She also has some faint stretch marks on her belly.

With her usual feathery outfit, she wears a bright red bandana on her forehead which belonged to her previous husband. A belt made of a golden snake's skin is also present around her waist.

Here is her picture.

And here is her outfit. Her vision replaces the charm of her orange leather scarf.

[hungryhyena]

the crown of the sangriano family, rosaria sangriano and her partners. mama rosa is the eldest in the family, the most respected, loved, and feared. also eddie's grandmother.

rosa's first husband- eddie's grandfather- was killed in the line of action many decades back. he was swiftly avenged, and a heartbroken rosa found solace in the arms of her two closest friends, who, not too long after, became her partners in business, crime, and life.

santos, the lankier werewolf, is a suave, intelligent, and confident man with a silver tongue and a disarming smile. athena, the scarred werewolf, is less talk and more action. she's the toughest around and everyone knows it, but she's also smarter than most might assume.

though mama rosa is older and stronger than her partners, they work as equals. the wolves are fiercly protective of her- sometimes annoying, yes, but you wouldn't believe the intimidation factor this adds.

[haunted-xander]

[ Come, may God light your path!

Let's pray for the lost lamb! I'll give you warmth and solace!

Gather round, lost lambs, before our hearts are corrupted!

Come! ]

mmm Rosaria