#ask celestia stuff

[carouselunique]

They had a bit of a chance encounter on a day where Blueblood was dealing with something that was very difficult and was so caught up in his emotions he didn’t even care that he was in the garden getting grass stans on his coat and Ditzy, with her natural impulse to cheer ponies up, didn’t even notice or care that she was flying into the palace gardens when she saw someone sat in the rain.

At first he was definitely going to call the castle guards to come apprehend this strange filly with the odd eyes who was intruding when this was the last moment he’d want to entertain any desperate debutantes, however she surprised him by not fawning or anything, not even caring about his status, just putting one of her fluffy wings up and asking if he needed somepony to lend an ear.

“Don’t let my eyes fool you, my ears work just fine!”

She was incredibly disarming and while he didn’t reveal everything about why he was upset, he found himself talking about his feelings to her. And she made such cheerful remarks, and was very comforting. In the end, he felt better and she came to check on him the next day, even sharing a blueberry muffin with him. He remarked that he’d never seen her around before, and that he wouldn’t mind terribly seeing her more often.

The rest, as they say, is history.

[fox-trot7]

God queens and their (formerly) evil trophy husbands

[merry-fagoland]

neuvidain/furidain/both simultaneously has given me so many thoughts and im pissed at you about it. why did you give me thoughts. dain is a defensive street dog and neuv and furina won him over with food and shared hatred of celestia send tweet. im going to go drown myself in the primordial sea. GOD I LOVE THEM. I HOPE YOU WIN YOUR NEXT 50/50

hi anon. so originally i was gonna respond to this with my notes and list of neuvifuridain/furidain/neuvidain thoughts and headcanons but upon collecting them i realized that together it was over a few thousand words long. so ive split them up into a group of smaller posts for easier reading that are queued to go up over the next few days

have fun be yourself share in my delusion and spread propaganda heart emoji peace abd love

[aromanticasterisms]

getting to the bottom of the new area and going oh 1. ajaw was telling the truth about what (he thinks) he was 2. so that's why he looks like that 3. did kinich go to ochkanatlan to meet him or was he set up somewhere else

[ramblebrambleamble]

Who/what was Furina/Focalors before she became an Archon?

Venti was a wind sprite who got the job because no one else wanted it once Decarabian was dead. He might have been an important wind sprite, given some of the lore, but he wasn't a god.

Zhongli was already a god and got the job by virtue of being the last man standing once the Liyue part of the Archon War was over.

Ei is currently possessing her own puppet, but has been there in some form basically since the beginning and most people in Inazuma aren't aware that there was ever an Archon before her.

Nahida was created by her predecessor directly out of a twig and people are no longer aware that she is not the original Archon.

Now we have Furina. Fontaine is the first region where everyone knows that their Archon got replaced. Replaced how? It's heavily implied that every other god aside from the original Archons was killed in the Archon War and everything we've seen so far seems to bear this out. So where did Furina (and the next two Archons) come from?

[teddytwotone]

Thoughts on Junko Enoshima?

Oh, Junko’s one of my best friends! She’s a bit of a gossip, but bear’s really just the sweetest! - 🌟

It’s my sister. I love her. - 🐇

Junko and I talk a lot, actually! I kinda expected bear to be snooty like Togami, since bear’s the Ultimate Fashionista, but bear’s actually super cool! I really like hanging out with it! - 🎸

I’m not really as close with Junko as I’d like to be. I think that’s just because of how shy I am, to be honest… - 👾

Yeah, bear’s cool. We talk every once in a while, and she’s always got some crazy story about the places she’s been. - 💎

I haven’t spoken spoken to Enoshima much, admittedly. It always seems to be quite friendly whoever I do, however! - 🎖️

Surprisingly, Miss Enoshima and I spend time together frequently! Bear is always interested in my unique knowledge of our classmates! - 📖

Oh, Junko is such a darling. We spend quite a bit of time designing and making clothes together. I’ve recently been thinking of approaching it with a business venture, in fact! - 👑

She attends my biweekly tea time with Celestia, Sayaka, and myself. I like to think of us as close friends. - 🌸

Bear’s too loud and outgoing for my taste. I put it in the same category as Asahina. Friendly, but exhausting. - 🖋️

Dude, Junko’s awesome! Bear comes around all the time to talk and hang out in my dorm. We have fun. - ⏳

Me and Junko are besties!!! We talk almost every day in class!! She’s the sweetest!!!! - 💧

Enoshima is one of the more persistent in attempting to gain my companionship. I find it to be far more vulgar than I anticipated it to be. - 💰

It seems to be one of those people who you can’t help but be fond of. - 🔎

I wouldn’t say we’re super close, but Junko and I hang out a lot! Bear’s really fun to be around, but bear tends to be a bit of a pot stirrer… - 🍀

[kindheart525]

In the Horror au, how would Flurry react to Iolite murdering her mother (since I recall you saying that Iolite kills the Crystal Empire family), or the Novolestia family to losing Novo's granddaughter and Aura's and Heavenly's "cousin"?

Flurry is part of the Crystal Family who gets murdered so technically she’d only have about 10 seconds to react to her mother’s death before she dies too. Shining Armor is also killed btw even though he’s legally no longer royalty, because he used to be part of the couple whose love once conquered all and Iolite would see their divorce as a betrayal of that love.

The hippogriff family is kind of in crisis because the heir to their throne is now dead. I think they would go back underwater to keep themselves safe, following the example of the dragons who are also hiding and bolstering their defense. Pinkie has joined them just as Rarity and Maud have joined Ember, but Celestia stayed behind to help Twilight on the surface. Heavenly Glow is chosen as the new heir in place of Taffy, along with Sahar, with whom she shares a love so supernaturally powerful that it strikingly parallels the now-divorced and dead Crystal couple. If Taffy has had her daughter Spring Palooza by the time this AU takes place (which I think is likely), then the whole hippogriff family is collectively raising her in preparation for deciding whether she or Setting Star (Heavenly and Sahar’s daughter) is more suited for the throne when they grow up.

[icefeather22]

Some graphic descriptions of injury, it was fun, but I don't like writing it unless it's necesary for the plot.

29, 13 of them are published.

To be more confident in my writing.

Probably Danganronpa.

Danganronpa and Little Nightmares.

Celeshiro (Celestia x Chihiro).

Chihiro and Celestia, also Mono and Six, I would adopt those last two if I could. Chihiro and Celestia have each other to take care of.

I wrote for Little Nightmares Ö.

The Celeshiro week, because it inspired me back into writing. Also "Again and again, until you're safe." For the same reason.

The vampire series, it made me feel warm inside.

Shared Delight, it was a little sad but oh boy it was refreshing to give the series such an ending, and I also got to be the 100th work in the Fujisaki Chihiro/Celestia Ludenberg tag.

"Twinkling Lights and Warm Embraces", but I managed to post it and got a really cute comment on it.

"A rose I will give you and with its stem I will protect you" it just felt natural, like I was letting my hands flow.

Shortest: "French greeting" - Longest: Celeshiro Week 2023

I would recomend "Again and again, until you're safe." because I think I might've gotten possesed by the Reallygoodwriting demon while writing it. Also! If you like Celeshiro I'd recomend my vampire series, they're great!

The soundtrack from Little Nightmares and Oh my Girl songs, though mostly ambient noises like rain and crickets.

I don't eat while writing, I might've taken some tea though?

"Twinkling Lights and Warm Embraces" I had no idea what to call it.

‘Please pull me up.’ he thought, looking desperately into her eyes for any sign of emotion, there were none, she didn’t say a word, still looking at him for what felt like a lifetime, then she let go, the pain on his chest didn’t take long to appear, just like the tears in the corner of his eyes, looking to the rock getting more and more distant as he fell into the abyss.

At that time, it didn’t even cross the vampire's thoughts that the moment was the perfect chance to taste the blood of the human, she was too focused on thinking about how pretty she looked when she slept.

“I’m…” “I don’t… really…” “Look, I didn’t fell in love with a girl… I fell in love with a person… And who that person is, a kind, passionate, determined, inspiring and caring programmer” (Pansexual mood)

I couldn't decide so I'll put both: () ()

NSFW/SMUT WARNING: “Aah…” Such a soft moan from the hazel eyed shouldn’t have made Celestia feel a shiver from her head to her toes, with even her wings flapping once in response to the sound. --- I was really nervous to write smut after such a long time, but I think it turned out great! This was the sentence I struggled the most with.

NSFW WARNING FOR THIS ONE AS WELL: Turns out that without blood pumping a girl can't get wet, so I decided not to mention that in my smut vampire AU work.

Libre Office Writer ^^ (I have a love/dislike relationship with it).

That's though, but finding out my favourite artist liked my fics and was inspired by them was definetly a Kaboom! moment for me.

Yes! A while ago I posted the last work for the Vampire AU and decided to post a bunch of headcanons for it.

Depends, since I have lot of fun at it I don't really need to recharge, but after the last Vampire AU fic I'm deciding to take a little tiny break, since it was all so hasty, first the Celeshiro Week 2023, then I wanted to write a lot to submit to the Chihiro Fanzine, then I wanted to get the Holidays fic done before the Holidays and afterwards I wanted to write as much Celeshiro as possible to contribute to the 100 works.

Well, I want to thank my friends for keeping me from falling, specially Æ who was there from start to end, I also want to thank my fav artist for being so cool and kind to me, without my family I probably wouldnt've made it this far and I also want to thank myself for not giving up even with everything that happened, I'm far from perfect, but I tried my best through it all.

Mass produce Celeshiro! Finish the other two Little Nightmares fic which I'll try to make even greater than the last! And... Idk, I might find some other community to obsess over. I currently have 16 fics planned just from Danganronpa and Little Nightmares so woah.

fic writer asks

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year? How did it turn out and would you do it again?

How many fics did you work on this year? (They don’t have to be finished or published!)

What’s something you learned about yourself as a writer?

What piece of media inspired you the most?

What fandom(s) did you write for this year?

What ship(s) captured your heart?

What character(s) captured your heart?

Did you write for a new fandom or ship this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write? Did you finish it?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics this year?

Rec a fic you wrote or posted in 2023

What were you go-to writing songs?

What were your go-to writing snacks?

What was the hardest fic to title?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share an excerpt from your favorite scene

Share the final version of a sentence or paragraph you struggled with. What about it was challenging? Are you happy with how it turned out?

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What did you use to write? (e.g. writing programs, paper & pen, etc.)

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What’s something that you want to write in 2024?

[celuere]

prepare for trouble!

and make it double.

pairing: peruere x fem!reader x arlecchino

context: bored to death in a never ending meeting, your husband surely knows how to entertain you.

cw: arle uses her fancy domain trick on you, threesome, bossform arle, vaginal fingering, riding, bondage, cuckolding (kinda?????), squirting, degrading, size kink, a lil bit unrealistic but everything is possible in your husband’s mindscape, also capitano mention because i know he is a gentleman, not proofread

wc: 3k

art creds: drunken my boss

A/N: arle x reader tag has been so quiet lately… time for elise and me to change that. and i apologize for taking this long, lots of work drama this week and i really wanted this fic to be perfect and therefore rewrote a lot of stuff, added paragraphs where i thought we were moving on too fast, etc. because i didn’t want to look back at this work with regret albrkwnrbwkne

so i hope you enjoy!

twenty…

twenty-one…

twenty-two…

twenty-three.

that would make twenty-three windows, two doors, three chandeliers and thirty other attendees in this hall.

you and your husband not counted.

latter one was sat directly opposite of you, her attention actually focused on the conversation at hand rather than you, how you were practically melting into your chair the longer you had to listen to pierro‘s plan regarding… well, you would know if you cared to listen.

even childe was listening, usually he‘d be the first to play tic-tac-toe with you on a random napkin but tonight you were all on your own. and only celestia knows how much longer you will endure this torture.

you ran out of ways to entertain your mind long ago, counting the tiles on the ceiling, the doors, the windows, making up ridiculous stories between the present politicians, diplomats and generals and even going as far as to braid capitano‘s hair to your left. you were surprised he even let you, only sighing before he brushed his silky hair over his shoulder so your hands can have better access. you should really ask him about the conditioner he is using…

your eyes drifted over to your husband once more, red nails slowly drumming on the graphite surface of the table stretching over the hall. her tie was slightly out of place, urging you to bend over and fix its position or untie it completely. plopping the buttons of her black shirt open one by open as you worked your way down her body, letting your tongue glide over the surface of her abs down to the trail of black hair and-

crimson x’s piercing suddenly through you ripped you right out of your fantasy. of course she‘d notice your staring, an eyebrow propped up.

„everything alright?“, she didn’t need to speak those words out, but she only added to your frustration with how her eyes narrowed at your obvious flushed cheeks. you could have sworn her eyes lit up for the shortest moment, as if she‘d looked right into your head before the corners of her lips quirked up.

she really could read you like an open book.

yet her eyes weren‘t leaving yours. only sparing the cleavage of your dress a small glance.

and something shifted in the air around you when a snap echoed through the walls from somewhere far away.

you merely blinked before you found yourself no longer in the cold conference room but rather in front of the bright gloom of a crimson moon. 

with nobody present except your husband, seated on her balemoon throne and a smile so lethal plastered onto her face that caused your core to slowly melt.

„bored out of your mind, my dove?“, her voice came out as an echo, ringing through seemingly endless realm as she gestured you to come closer with a crook of her middle and index finger.

„i… arle, what happened? where did everyone else go…?“, with nervous steps you walked up to her, like a sacrifice about to get offered.

„do not worry about them, love. and certainly don‘t break your pretty little over head over it. think of this as a… secret room you‘ve found yourself in.“, she uncrossed her legs, spreading them right as you reached her, „you certainly found a liking earlier to my tie, didn‘t you?“

„oh, uh… y-yes… yes i did, it looked out of place.“, you reached out almost instinctively but instead of fixing it… your fingers got to work on loosening up the fabric. she did not seem surprised.

„hm? you want it gone altogether? i‘m not refusing, dearest. go on.“, black hands got a hold of your ass and pulled you right on her lap. 

your breath hitched when your clothed cunt came in contact with her crotch. seems like your shameless staring did wonders to her cock already. impressive if you happened to be a stranger. but as her wife, the knave always had little to no self control for you. 

you let the tie hang loose around her neck before you moved over to the buttons of her shirt. arlecchino did not stop you.

„my, are you in a haste?“

„no, i just-“

„hands off then. i‘d like to see if you‘re wearing the undergarments i bought you last week. go on.“, a black hand engulfed yours to stop you from proceeding any further and the sudden change in her tone caused your pussy to throb, oh you were so incredibly underfucked lately.

and it has only been two weeks since the last time she took you to bed.

but truth be told, you were in fact not wearing any pretty lingerie today when you pulled up the skirt of your dress because who in their right mind would think they’ll get pulled into their husband’s mindscape in the middle of a highly confidential meeting???

she only clicked her tongue, eyes displaying the obvious disappointment at the sight of your plain white panties. with a visible stain.

„a shame… i was looking forward to how the purple lace would compliment your pretty body, my flower… but alas…“, she wasted no time with rubbing her thumb over the damp spot on the cotton, tickling a gasp right out of your mouth, „i‘d take my wife wearing anything.“

those words were followed by your slip being pulled aside and caused your heart to set out for a beat, her fingers were quick to run through the slickness covering your folds.

„hah… a-anything…?“, you couldn‘t stop your hips from pushing further into her hand, fingers dancing around your aching hole. oh, she was teasing you. maybe even making you beg for it.

„ma cherie, i would show you seven different ways to heaven even if you wore a trashbag in front of me.“, tone as hard as a rock (also as something else…) and you knew she wasn‘t playing around. she was never playing around when you were involved. may the shogun strike her down if she ever lied to you.

her words caused your stomach to flare up, heat shooting up right into your cheeks at how serious she actually was before you felt her two fingers sliding into your pussy. 

„a-ahh… y-you didn‘t even let me answer-“, you bit down on your lower lip at the feeling of her digits feeling your insides up for that certain spot, yet her face was unmoved. observing you. a wolf stalking its prey right before the deadly bite.

„right, where did my manners go… it is almost like my wife hasn’t been undressing me with her eyes for the entirety of this evening.“, a shiver bolted through your body as arlecchino aimed for that neatly hidden spot, sending bolts of of ecstasy down your spine.

„it is no secret to me that that my dear wife secretly wishes for much more… filthier fantasies.“

you thought you were hallucinating for a short moment before you felt it. a pair two hands- much bigger hands- working their way from your shoulder down to your breasts. hands carrying a curse with bloody lines for skin that dragged the expensive silk of your gown below your tits.

oh god.

oh. god.

if you weren‘t already sitting in your husband‘s lap you would have surely lost your foothold. you would recognize that pattern anywhere.

„h-how-“, you gasped as her hands engulfed the soft mass of your tit, giving it a gentle squeeze.

„some questions are best left unanswered…  besides, i don‘t think you truly care about my reasoning.“, you almost overheard her words with how arlecchino‘s fingers were practically rubbing you into whimpering mess, nodding your head to her statement of which you only understood the first half. 

she was so twisted for that. so twisted and cruel for reading your fantasies like that. why did she always have to be so attentive to you??

„look at you trembling already, dove. say, does this situation arouse you, hm?“, an almost exhilarating whine escaped your lips as you felt her fingers giving your hardened buds a good pinch, only adding further to the knot in your abdomen. too much all at once. too many hands on you. too many words you have to process while arlecchino‘s fingers were working inside your clenching cunt, never missing a chance to go for that spot that caused your body to shiver and your hips to further press against her hand. 

„hah… i-it does- oh fuck-“, your first orgasm came crashing down on you like a bucket of ice water, straightening your spine and throwing your head back against what you thought to be your… other husband‘s abdomen as your walls grabbed onto arlecchino‘s fingers with no end. as if your body isn‘t already screaming for something more… filling.

like you weren‘t about to get the much bigger deal.

„so exhausted already after i merely used my fingers on you. i trained you to last much more longer than that, didn‘t i?“

the both of them hummed at your pathetic state. your exposed tits and their hardened nipples, your slick covering your husband‘s hand and sleeve and probably even her pants and yet you still looked… unfinished. as if as puzzle piece was missing. it was probably the lack of running mascara or your still very empty pussy that triggered their next action.

„i‘d like to allow myself the next turn now.“, a snap so crisp it could‘ve cut through time itself echoed throughout the bloody realm before fainting into a faraway whisper, when a yelp left your throat as multiple thicks string wrapped themselves around your limbs. especially your thighs, abdomen and both arms, lifting you off of your husband‘s lap who just… smiled at you. 

„now let me have a proper look at you, doll.“, and like clockwork your body was slowly turned around. breath catching in your throat, heart rate increasing and if your lungs weren‘t feeling too big for your chest right now you would have probably moaned screamed at the sight presenting itself to you.

you knew she was… bigger in this form. what used to be around one head taller than you now turned into around three whole heads. and you suddenly felt so small at the cursed hand working its way from your tits down to your tummy, her sprawled out fingers touching your underboob even tho she was pressing down a bit below your belly button. but most importantly was…

„wh-what is the meaning of this-“, suddenly you sucked in a sharp breath when you got moved closer to peruere, whose smile had something… sinister in it. yet it failed to scare you, only causing the painful ache between your legs to intensify.

you only heard their joined chuckles roaming through the mindscape, not mocking you. they seemed rather amused.

„my sweet doll.“, your throat bobbed when you noticed her other hand slowly unbuckling the belt, but what rather concerned you was what she was caging underneath, „you‘re not truly asking because you want an answer, right?“, she did not bother with removing the leather from its loops and only shoved the fabric just low enough to uncover her throbbing cock, the black tip already glistening with precum in the red gloom of the balemoon.

the strings kept you in a straight position as your left leg got pushed up to your chest to reveal your arousal running down your legs. the sudden exposure caused you to gasp and avert your eyes from the combination of her hard cock aligning with your drenched entrance.

your husband clicked her tongue in annoyance before a hand big enough to crush your skull with ease grabbed your face to make you look back down again.

„i want you to watch it disappear inside of you. i thought you were smart enough to remember that…“, she slowly pushed herself forward and therefore her tip right inside and holy mother on earth. 

„a-ah-!! o-oh shit!! that‘s n-not fair-!!!“, she was so big. you weren‘t even sure your poor pussy could handle that but you didn‘t even know if this was your actual physical body getting stretched out on peruere‘s cock in the first place. 

„shhhh… don‘t be so loud. we got someone to entertain after all. surely, you‘d want to do a good job for her.“, you moaned as you felt her sharp nails digging deeper into your muscles with each centimeter she further slipped into your greedy cunt. and you were losing more of your sanity with each of them, eyes darting around, unsure where to look. her stern expression? the noticeable tummy bulge? and why were you even still wearing your dress in the first place? that thing just hung loose around your waist for all it was worth. might as well just rip it off.

„oh, don‘t let my presence cause any distractions for you. i‘m more than satisfied with the view from behind here.“, her raw voice from right behind was laced with desire as thick as honey. you were honestly a bit afraid of what‘s about to come for *you* your pussy.

„goodness, she is tight… and so small compared to me.“, as if she wanted to undermine her statement, a black hand pressed down onto the bulge that formed on your, sending your mind down a spiral of ecstasy at the almost uncomfortable sensation. your mouth hung open, moans and whimpers freely leaving as they pleased before you felt the tip slipping past your g-spot and you probably never sounded louder.

a thumb rubbed circles over your aching clit as if in an attempt to further ease you around her cock.

„breathe, doll. we have done this plenty of times, surely my wife won‘t give into defeat this early on. i trained you much better than this.“, you could only imagine those crimson eyes roaming over your trembling figure, how the strings gently squeezed your flesh and kept you in place. the only ones that allowed you to mildly move around were attached to your arms, one hand currently grabbing for dear life onto peruere‘s neck to somehow anchor yourself. you knew she couldn‘t possibly fit all the way inside of you. but you wanted her to. you wanted her to use you like a fleshlight so bad, to drag you on and off her throbbing cock like you weighed nothing in her eyes.

„i think our pretty girl is pretty much at her wits end already… and i am barely halfway inside. but this will also do.“, a hand came up to tilt your head upward to face her when she carefully pulled back- to push herself inside again, „look at you, i just started moving and you are already threatening to tear up.“, she couldn‘t help but lick her lips at the pathetic sight in front of her as she brushed the salty fluid off with her thumb, only for them to grow glassy again when she turned the pace up once more. slick running down your leg as your vision grew hazy with her cock pumping in and out of your still adjusting pussy. you could barely hear arlecchino‘s words over the filthy sounds from your cunt.

„surely you want her to come inside of you. isn’t that so, lovely?“, she sounded way nearer than a few moments earlier before you felt a pair of soft lips planting themselves on your neck and two hands coming up to cup your pretty tits, massaging them, squeezing them. you‘re going to die of a heart attack here.

„i‘ll take that as a yes-”, she ended her sentence with a sharp hiss as your nail scratched over her neck hard enough to draw blood when you felt it.

it was a rare occasion. often it was caused by overstimulation or when arlecchino was actively trying for it, but squirting over her cock on your second orgasm when all she did was move her hips in a fairly medium-paced manner? it was embarrassing. the way you gushed all over her fat dick, pants and heels oh you will never hear the end of it.

„my, what a stamina you have today, dearest…“, long fingers sneaked from your breast down to spread your still leaking pussy apart, causing you to automatically grip onto your husbands biceps.

„ah-!! wait- i-i‘m still sensitive-!“, you started sobbing on the spot at how your poor cunt was only penetrated further.

but do you also wanna know what comes with a bigger dick? bigger loads.

with one last push of her hips and a low grunt emitting from her throat, peruere emptied herself inside of you, thick ropes of white painting your pussy and you were full of her. 

„mhm… get it all in there… gosh, look at that pretty pussy taking my cum…“, arlecchino pushed her two fingers inside as peruere retreated from you, a thick string of both of your juices connecting you to her tip before it snapped.

„p-please hold on- ah-!“, poor you couldn’t help but beg for a little break, you were just so overwhelmed with her fingers playing in your cum-filled pussy…

„what about your input?“

„huh?“

„your input, [name].“

you felt like somebody just straight up punched you right into the gut when you found yourself back inside the conference room. with all the attention suddenly focused on you.

„m-my-”, you quickly had to clear your throat with a few coughs, trying to ignore how beyond soaked you were, „my input on what exactly…?“, you masked it but you were fucking panicking on the inside. and your husband was merely raising an eyebrow at you. 

just then capitano leaned down to your ear, „it‘s about arlecchino‘s deployment in liyue for the next month, as her wife they want your opinion on the matter.“, and he still had that stupid braid in his hair.

„ah, thank you… i have no objections regarding the upcoming plans.“, that was all it took for everyone to take their eyes off of you. 

except for one person.

her x‘s were resting on you. piercing through your face as she crosses her arms.

that’s when you noticed the scratch on her neck. a fresh one.

[hitomisuzuya]

can you write some fluffy scara aftercare? like the shower is done and he and s/o are just laying in bed and they’re playing with his hair and expressing their insecurities and stuff? this is really vague and it’s okay if you decide against it

scaramouche x fem!reader. fluffy fluff fluff. abandonment issues discussed. soft!scara

bear with me, everyone, i am at the beginning stages of an awful cold. don't worry, your request wasn't vague at all🥺

right now, in this moment, all is right with the world for scaramouche. you are tucked safely under his arm in bed, the night the nice and quiet. the kind of calm that coupled with your fingers gently stroking his hair had made his eyes lull closed awhile ago. he could feel the steady rhythm of your breathing against his chest.

his fingertips brushed absentminded and soothing over the inflamed skin where passionate bruises are blossoming as a result. bruises that you never once attempted to cover up or hide. you always let him be so rough with you.

it really spoke volumes about how much you accept him just as he is. how much you trust him, and give him room express his passion as loud as likes in whatever way he likes.

scaramouche thought your fingers would become still after awhile. this time they didn't. you usually fell asleep before him.

"what's up? can't sleep around me?" he teases as he opens his eyes. he readjusts his arm around your waist, moving you closer against his chest.

you shook your head. "no, it's not that. it's just.." you trail off, idly playing with a few strands of his soft, damp hair. "i'm just thinking, that's all."

scaramouche tilts your head up so you would look at him. "out with it. what's rattling around and around that pretty head of yours?" his thumb skims along the dip in your hip. an action that read you are safe talking to him about it if you wanted to.

your cheeks flush as you look away shyly. "i was just in your office this morning tidying up. and i suddenly thought about what it would be like if you left me," your lower lips trembles a little. "i could barely stand the thought. it made my heart hurt so badly," the words just came tumbling out of your mouth.

he cringes hearing your next words: "you aren't going to abandon me to some day, are you?"

your life until you met scaramouche has been a long cycle of rinse and repeat. you are always that one in the background. the one who merely serves as a tool to idly pass the time before they moved on to something they thought was more interesting.

everyone always leaves. it hurts more and more each time.

"do you know why i always sleep closer to the door?" scaramouche asks, moving your head so you would look at him again.

"why?" you look a little confused by the abrupt change in subject.

"if something bad happens, i can be right there to stop it at the door. whatever it is wouldn't get the chance to even step an inch towards this bed. it's not for my own sake though, it's for yours. it's so i can protect you," scaramouche sincerely wonders if celestia itself is aware that if anything happens to you, he would burn it all to ground.

teyvat. celestia. the heavenly principles. all of it.

"i don't let anyone take what's mine," his thumb brushes over your cheek. he knows asking if you trust him or not isn't the correct way to approach this. a brush off question he would never ask you.

scaramouche recognizes the vulnerable look of fear on your face. he is pretty sure he had the same look many times in past, and more times after than he cares to admit. sighing, he reluctantly took his arm from around you, and rolls over to reach down and grope around for something on the floor.

feeling his hand bump against his hat, he bats it aside. he wanted what was under it.

"here," rolling back over, scaramouche hands you a handmade little doll. "keep him with you. he is my.." an embarrassed blush dusts his cheeks, ".. travelling companion. even when i am not here, i am still here. as long as this doll is with you, know that i will always come back without fail."

your eyes widen in surprise for a moment. "scara, i can't take this from you," you hug the doll to your chest nonetheless. scaramouche feels relieved that the doll is doing its intended purpose. adding to the comfort and reassurance he is giving you.

"yes, you can," he scoffs, "it's mine to give to who i please, isn't it?" he raises an eyebrow at you. he remembers you using the same logic with him many times before.

he knows how it feels to be abandoned. there is no way he would ever wish that upon you, his precious treasure.

"thank you, scara," your heart is swelling with such love that you thought it might burst. the feeling made it hard to breathe for a moment. "i'll keep him with me, always. i feel a lot better now," even your voice sounds lighter.

"good," he puts his arms back around your waist, moving you back against his chest. "now, you should congratulate me."

you snort softly, giggling a little as you rest your head on his chest. "why?"

"because i figured out the impossible. how to be in two places at once," scaramouche boasts, the same egotistical smirk that you have come to love tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"oh? well, how about this instead," you pick your head up off his chest, pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

[justmeclover]

Swag says they know nothing on MLP so here's a very very VERY short summary of what it is. Not summarizing the plot cuz I barely watched any of the show myself.

So basically, this one animator guy saw this old pony show abt friendship and was like, "Aight bet." and made his own show about ponies and friendship. 6 main characters, 6 ponies. (And a dragon for some reason.) One comes from Texas, one likes books, one is high 24/7, one is a drag queen, one has social anxiety, and one watched Breaking Bad that one time. The show started silly and goofy, but then the fandom wanted LORE so the animator guy who started this whole mess gave them the LORE.

Oh and also Bronies ig.

Who would be who in a LMK/MLP?

So Pigsy has to be Applejack, Tang is Twilight, Mei as Pinky Pie, Red Son as Rarity, MK is Rainbow Dash, Sandy as Fluttershy (bc come on, he’s really good with animals). That just leaves Wukong and Macaque as Celestia and Luna

I'll take your word on it hoMIE ^^ b

[teddytwotone]

does anyone have any fav tv shows (mines dr who)

Ummm… I don’t think I have a favorite, actually! There are so many good ones!! I guess I could say Free is up there! - 💧

I don’t watch television. - 💰

Well, I quite enjoy historical fiction, such as the Bridgerton series. Though, high fantasy has always had a lovely appeal to it. - 👑

I normally watch web series more than tv, so I’m not really sure. Dr Who definitely has a soft spot in my heart, though! - 👾

Of course, my favorite program is Demon Angel Pretty Pudgy Princess! The story and action are addicting! Not to mention the stunning design! - 📖

Grey’s Anatomy is pretty good! I’m a slut for a good drama lol!! - 💖

I’m afraid I haven’t consumed enough media to make a decision. Though, I suppose Death Note is worth mentioning. It brings up many fascinating moral quandaries! - 🎖️

So far, I’ve only watched Criminal Minds. Criminal Profiling is an interest of mine. - 🔎

The Zombie Land Saga is fuckin hilarious! Tatsumi’s my favorite character by far!! - 🎸

It’s hard to choose! Avatar: The Last Airbender was the first anime I ever watched. I remember staying up late to watch it with my sister when we were kids. - 🍀

Normally I’d say Tokyo Revengers, but I’ve been watching Way of the House Husband with my boyfriends for a while now. I think it’s gotta be a tie between those two. - 💎

I don’t know. - 🐇

The traditional energy of Kimetsu no Yaiba, combined with the exceptional martial arts, makes for an interesting experience. - 🌸

Well, my best friend Ayaka and I got into Oshi no Ko, but we didn’t realize what exactly we were getting into lol. It’s still one of our all time favorites, though! - 🌟

I was a fan of the Witcher books before they became a show. It’s not as good, but I still like to watch it. - 🖋️

Oh definitely Saiki K.! I’m always down for a good comedy anime! - ⏳

[sh1-n0bu]

I’d like to order some nsfw genshin impact SAGAU stuff:

More specifically, its when the Creator uses a vessel different from Wanderer, their main, and he gets jealous all the time.

So, when they descend on teyvat, one of the first things they do is fuck the jealousy out of him so badly he cant speak. (Yes its overstimulation because MAN…)

♡︎ 𝙢𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙙 ♡︎

characters: sub!AFAB!wanderer (or scaramouche) x nb!dom!reader

warnings: overstimulation, dacryphillia, jealousy, oral fixation, squirting, fingering, slight cult-ish and religious undertones

notes: hhhh my first sagau smut

kabukimono adored the creator.

how could he not? he was just a mere creation and a vessel of the god of all gods.

the first to tell the poor, discarded puppet of you was niwa. when seeing how everyone in tatarasuna worshipped a being called divine creator, the poor puppet couldn’t help his own curiosity and ask. in response, niwa patiently explained to him how there was once an ancient being. a god of all gods. one who even reigned over the archons, celestia itself. one who created teyvat, blessed it with life and in their weakened state, went to an eternal rest.

kabukimono adored the creator with the hollow remains of where his heart is meant to be. an empty shell filling with fuzzy feelings, smile spreading on his face whenever he goes to pray at your shrine, offerings of small yet precious things left in your altar. he only hoped it would please your soul.

kunikuzushi has secret reverence and respect for the creator.

you took away his friend, his home, his family and yet he still hopes for your guidance. carrying hope in the shape of a small wooden carving that he made, which he clutches closely to his chest.

during restless nights and moments when he feels himself slipping, losing hope, losing sight of loving you — he clutches the wooden carving to his chest. tight, tight to the point it leaves a dent in his pale hand and whispers into it. how he wishes to be in your care. how he hopes that you didn’t abandon him. how he hopes that your loving arms would hold him one day. how you are the only source of life he has.

how all the blood he shed was meant for you. a sacrifice for you. to appease you. to bring you back to teyvat. to see you in flesh.

kunikuzushi has secret reverence and respect for the creator.

scaramouche despises the creator.

you left him. when his own mother betrayed him and left him alone, he was lucky to be found by nagamasa. he was lucky that niwa was kind enough to let him stay at tatarasuna. how you were so cruel that even after all the metal and iron, gold and silver he molded and modeled to make tiny offerings to your altar. how you were twisted to give him small slivers of hopes in the form of niwa and the sick child, yet to take them away.

he hates you. despises you. loathes you. every little altar he sees, he hopes to destroy it. every statue of you he glimpses at, he uses his delusion to shock the old and eroded stone until it breaks and crumbles. oh, how badly he wished to do the same to you.

the sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers won’t even hesitate for a split second to spit on your name even in the presence of the tsaritsa. childe always looks down on him whenever he does. the ginger’s hands twitching, delusion and vision mixing up together as he tries his best to hold himself back from jumping on the short arrogant puppet.

and yet despite it all… scaramouche still clutches the small wooden carving of you. holding it close to his chest as he secretly whispers in his mind how much he wishes to please you. the puppet only hopes all the bodies he piled up would satisfy you, even just a little bit.

wanderer loves you dearly.

he has been wrong this whole time. you were never twisted, never sick in the head nor heart, never wishing to manipulate him, never wishing harm or pain upon anything. you were gentle. loving. every life form you passed by would swoon and sway, hoping to touch you. even touching your clothes or robes would be enough.

when be first got his vision, he heard your voice in his head. it was the same loving warmth that enveloped the traveler. it was warm, gentle, loving but still not fully there. when he protected the traveler and the floating thing, he could hear you cheer for him. for him.

but when an array of shooting stars engulfed the fake skies, wanderer looks up as always. blue ones, purple ones and then he felt it. a certain pull in his chest. like how red strings of fate tugs on your pinky in all those fairytales.

and he follows.

running, running, running — until he eventually reaches an odd place. a clear sky, one that looked real and one that cradled him in a gentle warmth.

“yeeesss!! you’re finally home! welcome home, wanderer!” a voice rings in his head loud and clear. excitement, happiness, elation, joy, pride — all sorts of emotions bubble in him, ready to burst out. but instead it fell down in the form of a tear. a happy tear.

it was you. it was the creator. the all-knowing, all-loving one. and you wanted him! him of all people! and you were happy that you had him!

yet wanderer doesn’t get it.

if you loved him so much, wanted him, pre-farmed for him as you said and even got his signature weapon, why were you using someone else? why use that cocky cryo user from mondstadt? why use his brother who is equally cocky but knows how to keep it hidden? why use that annoying old archon who flaunts that he is your oldest and most devout follower? or even the yashirou commissioner!

was he not enough? was he not strong enough? did you needed to “farm” for his talent materials? if so, no need! he already went ahead and got them for you when you logged out! everything to make him the perfect dps as you called is all there and ready!

strange.

why was your other characters are all either dead or on 1hp when you log in? only wanderer is there — your main — in full hp. standing proud and cocky with the same grin.

——

it’s tough to be a god.

no seriously. all jokes and that damn catchy song aside, it was indeed tough to be a god. especially when all these powerful people who can literally control elements and even gods themselves were worshipping you. how can you be a god of all gods?

well, you found out the answer to that question on one of your earlier days when you got a little bit too curious. all in the form of an ichor bleeding out of your palm that you sliced. and perhaps a bit pressured too. after all, being put on a pedestal for everyone to see and worship and grovel to is hard to deal with. especially when you were suddenly thrown into a world that you thought was only fictional!

but there was also something else that was incredibly, unbelievably, astoundingly hard to deal with was your main. the puppet who was abandoned. the short, sarcastic asshole. but never towards you! he would hate to make you even slightest bit sad or angry.

and yet he does it anyways.

going out of his way to stalk down some poor merchant you like buying things from to buy most of their stock so you won’t visit the merchant’s shop again. picking fights with your acolytes when you show the slightest hint of favoritism. hell, he almost killed childe. but of course, the battle lusted ginger loved the thrill and had asked for more future fights.

which all led to here. him getting his well deserved punishment.

poor wanderer thinking he was all too slick. how he was doing everything behind your back so you wouldn’t know anything. how you would stay innocent to his actions while he goes and picks another fight. but you noticed. every single jealousy inflicted actions wanderer had pulled and orchestrated, you knew.

anyone could walk in right now and see what was happening. anyone of your pathetic other acolytes could walk in and see how good you were fucking him. fingers knuckles deep into his cunt, fucking him so good, so deep.

and dear stars and you, wanderer wanted that. he wanted those pathetic worshippers to see how you favored him above them.

wanderer had lost his sense of self and mind long time ago. the moment you wrapped your hand around his throat to manhandle his tiny body to sit on your lap, his mind was gone. a blank sheet of paper.

the puppet doesn’t remember how many orgasms you’ve wrung out of him but he loved it. he wanted it. he wanted more. he wanted your fingers to fuck him open.

in his hazy mind, lust ridden babbles and overstimulated body, he can feel it. how your other hand is keeping his labia spread open. how you apply pressure around his cunt. how your fingers are squelching into him, creating a filthy wet shlick! shlick! noises.

how your hand keeping his labia open goes to tug on his clit. pinching the bud of muscle as he writhes and screams in your lap. squirting over your fingers again like a common brothel whore. and he loved it. by the stars above, he loved it.

because deep in his most depraved part of mind, wanderer knew that he was a whore. your whore. your common brothel cheap whore. your whore who would spread open his legs for you if you asked for it. who would eagerly finger himself so he can provide you with some sort of entertainment. who would take your hand and guide it inside his shorts, not even bothering to wear undergarments, so he can give you easier access.

he doesn’t remember. doesn’t want to remember how many times he came. when you place him on your own throne, legs propped on both sides on the armrest, his wet, slick covered pussy and hardened sensitive clit for the world to see, all he can think about is how good it feels.

when you get down on your knees in front of him, it feels like a sacrilege. shouldn’t it be him who’s on his knees in front of you, trying and hoping to please you?

yet all of his thoughts fly out the window when your fingers stretch his sensitive pussy open again. fingers hooked on the inside slightly, just enough to open up his inner labia and for you to admire his gaping hole. waiting eagerly for you to claim it once again.

“your gra—aanhg!! grace! grace! your grace!! f-feelsh good. feelsh good feelsh goodfeelsgoodgoodgood ghk—! aammh!♥︎“ the jealous puppet whines and babbles on, your title falling over his lips over and over like a mantra as he drools. mind long gone, sanity on the thin line between delirium and lucidity. struggling to comprehend just what is happening.

he feels your mouth on him. tongue lapping at his juice greedily like an insatiable animal while he struggles to keep his legs open. hand twitching, hesitating for a moment before he grips onto your hair tightly — his only anchor. he can feel everything too greatly.

body sensitive, pushed over the boundaries of his virgin state. he could feel how you suck on his sensitive clit, forcing him to squirt into your mouth.

if this was how you would treat him to stop his jealousy induced rampages, maybe wanderer should do it more often.

[itstwitime]

© . 𝐎𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒 PARADOX.

01 — „ sonder “

the realisation that each passerby, each being one passes upon the street has as much significance and complexity as ones self has.

previous | next

word count — 4.8K

a/n in this universe, the archons are explicitly told to destroy khaenri'ah by celestia; failure to comply with their demands would result in the complete and utter inhalation of their respective nations.

also quick thing, tumblr is very much new to me so stuff like html editors and all that are very confusing, this is formatted weirdly because i can't for the life of me figure out how to do the text how it is on google docs,, dont judge me im stupid. this fic is cross posted on ao3 and wattpad, so if you'd like to see how its supposed to be formatted go check it out there!!

When an archon bleeds, the blood that trickles out is transparent.

Transparent, as in, non-existent–abnormalities like this simply cease to exist to the average human. When a dying man begs for salvation, imagining the God he devoted his mortal life to also suffering... it's not exactly the most warming of thoughts, to know his God is suffering in combat too. When a mother loses her kin, to see her God weep alongside her doesn't aid in the cleansing of her tears. It makes things worse.

A God showing mortal emotions goes against the very nature of a “God.”

The people look to an archon they can believe in. The all-mighty Morax, with his fist of iron and heart of gold is adored because he bleeds invisibly. Each gash and wound is taken in silence, with the notion of shame too great of a burden to bear if even a whimper of weakness slips out. 

The tender yet cold archon, Baal, takes her wounds and patches them within the shadows, for a woman with a significantly smaller wound lays just beneath her feet–how could she, so selfishly, tend to the cut that had torn her arm open when a woman with a cheek graze lay right there?

It was a cruel fate. One in which many of the archons were forced to shoulder without even so much as an ask beforehand.

((some of which, never even knowing what an archon is, before their descent—only being handed down a role with naught but a pat on the back and a ‘good luck’ from a palace in the sky.))

Responsibilities, as it were, very much concerned Gods too. But how could the people know this? How could they, devotees, know their archon sobbed himself to sleep? How could they say she was anything but a strong, profound leader? How could they say the Hydro Archon weeped upon her throne, the Dendro Archon lived in shame, the Anemo Archon was afraid of losing people?

They were none the wiser. They look to each of their Gods, hands clasped in prayer, begging and pleading for their own selfish desires; but the Archons wants and needs? Those were an afterthought, at best. 

But, it brings forth another set of questions, puzzle pieces to slap together—would anyone want to hear of their Archons mortal like woes? Would they want to know weakness, know their vulnerability, when it in its self is the very thing they pray to rid themself of?

If the Anemo Archon revealed these things, he knew it would do more harm than good.

After all, who would want to trust a useless God?

((Another slash to Barbatos' shoulder; he stays quiet.))

Who prays to a God that cannot even protect himself?

((He misses. A cut is dashed upon his cheek ))

Who even believes in the Anemo Archon anymore, after his negligence?

((His wing is slashed.))

What a worthless, pathetic excuse of an Archon.

A large cut lodges itself upon his back as he falls.

And, as he falls, one of the last things he sees is the blurred void of nothingness above him. A canvas of never ending black. 

It makes one think, doesn’t it? With not a star in sight, he can’t help but decide even the cosmos are ashamed to call him an archon.

He thinks it’s pathetic to call himself an archon, too.

─── ✦

Isaroth’s palace is always quiet.

It’s not that eerie, jaw clenching, hair pulling silence—it’s the type of serenity one sees within a paradise of sorts, a place that only exists within the confines of fiction. 

Barbatos hates the silence. He thinks it to be bothersome. Silence has haunted him many times throughout the course of his existence; the silence that followed the destruction of Decrabian, the peace that settled upon the land as Durin took his final breath, the moments that followed after his old friends life was drained from his eyes— 

—the harsh patter of water interrupts. It makes a loud splash, droplets spilling outwards toward the crystalline floors.

He really hates the silence.

“Here.” A warm cloth is placed upon his forehead, nibbling away at his migraine, “Close your eyes and stay quiet. For once.”

Not even he can argue with that. 

((In fact, when does he ever argue with her? Barbatos has found it useless to attempt back-talk with the God of Time. You know that one friend who brings up every past wrong-doing of yours in an argument?—that was Isaroth))

Isaroth sighs, occupying the muddle of thoughts within her head to focus on other things. More pressing matters, such as the mess Barbatos had gotten himself into.

How foolish could a God be? Man was foolish, in its very nature—if Adam had not followed Eve so readily into the garden, genesis would’ve taken an extremely different ending. If man did not argue and bicker, then things such as wars and death could mostly be avoided.

But God? God was supposed to advise against foolishness, be the bridge between stupidity and sensibility. 

A message in which the God of Anemo clearly did not receive in time. 

“Drink.” She holds out a glass vial, some strange, bubbly liquid swirling inside.

He does as instructed, carefully taking it from her hands. He brings it up to his nose—the smell is hardly pleasant. “.. What is it?”

“Medicine.”

“I wouldn’t of guessed,” it's his turn to sigh now, downing the beverage in a few gulps; his features scrunch up in distaste, brows knitting together, “Eew.. you couldn’t have concocted anything nicer tasting?”

She grabs the empty bottle, instantly bringing it to the sink. Dirty dishes are not welcome within these walls. “Medicine isn’t supposed to taste nice. You get what you’re given.”

“You couldn’t even make it a little sweeter? for me?” He pouts, whining like a small child.

Her hands itch. “Why would I go out of my way to accommodate such meanile needs? Stay quiet like I told you.”

Despite the obvious distaste within her words, the archon knows they hold no real ill will—

((At least, as far as he’s aware. As far as he hopes, anyway.))

—behind them. Isaroth was a strange God, in the sense she eagerly abided by the concept of tough love. Ever since he’d known her, even back as a wee wind spirit, he’d never known her to be anything but. 

Was it cruel? Just a bit. 

But he knows she only does it because she cares.

He knows she does everything in the way she does, because it’s the only way of showing affection in her mind. Things like hugs and kisses were about as foreign as Inazuma cuisine was to a Sumerian chef, and so on and so fourth. 

After all, she’d usually make him clean up his dishes; so her bending over the sink, scrubbing the excess off his cutlery couldn’t help but curve the corners of his lips into a soft little smirk. 

A few minutes of silence tick by. 

And, again, it’s not that eerie, bone shattering silence. It’s peaceful in a way.

His foot taps against the marble floors, the first glitters of sunlight peeping through the windows. The rag on his forehead gets slicked off, chucking it onto the sofa cushions. His migraine cleared up impeccably quick after that serum. Nothing but a menial little graze remained upon his forehead.

Barbatos lays upon the couch, bandaged up and battered from his earlier rendezvous. He knows he should be irked, frustrated, but a part of him can help but feel… disconnected.  

While he was falling, plummeting to his death, some side of him felt as if it were right. As if, the very notion of the Anemo Archon spiralling to his eventual doom, was something supposed to happen; as if the final thing he were to see would be a black sky of nothing, and no one would object. A star wouldn't twinkle in objection. A God wouldn't call out in disarray, and he certainly wouldn't part his lips to protest.

The Anemo Archon craved death. Death, as in, the natural cycle of cradle to cremation. The ever-going and ever-present slumber that you never wake up from. The end.

When you're immortal, the one thing most humans yearn to escape becomes the very thing you long to welcome with open arms. If it were to come knocking, you'd almost eagerly open your doors and invite it in. 

((After all, who did the Archon have to welcome in any way? He had no friends, no recurring faces within his life... there was Isaroth, sure, but how could one person cure the ache settled in by thousands of years of loss?))

Why did he have to go on, when all those whom he'd loved had passed? His old friend, Guunhildr, Amos… all in which, now rested upon their eternal deathbeds. Why was he the one to carry the burden of grief, when they were allowed to slumber without disruption? It was hardly fair.

He never asked for this. 

The sun claws against his cheek. An orange like glow veils his side, illuminating the scuffs and bruises from his rather eventful night. It was far past eve now, the sun finally clocking in for its early morning shift. The faintest chirping of birds and other such creatures illuminate the once quiet room.

Isaroth potters about as the minutes tick on, occasionally applying a new remedy or handing him a fresh mixture to drink. As she finishes applying new bandages to the gash on his leg, he speaks.

"Hey, how's Seraphine? I remember seeing her when you carried me in here."

She still chugs on with her work, cutting the excess bandages off and moving towards the bin–it's only when she's finished, she replies, "She's fine. Her paws are a little damaged, but nothing a quick time replacement can't fix."

Barbatos pouts. "Why couldn't you have used that with me? Instead of making me drink all those positively poisonous mixtures.."

"Because," She turns to face him, teal eyes thinning, "Time replacements are used for tiny gashes and grazes–I can't pull a new wing from another time-line for you."

Despite himself, that sly little smile still remains on his face. As it most often does. He laughs off her gentle berating, the sound soft, "Isaroth, you wound me. How could I have known it would've sliced half my wing clean off?"

"If you hadn't been so reckless and attempted to fight those monsters, like I told you, you wouldn't have gotten into this mess." She retorts, never missing a beat.

He supposes her words have some semblance of a point forming. 

But how could he just sit back, feign innocence, pretend to unsee the things he so clearly saw? Ever since the Cataclysm had sunk its claws into Teyvat, the effects had very nearly wiped the entirety of each nation. Trails of bodies and blood corrupted and infested the land, stray abyssal energy lurking with vengeance around every corner. 

Large groups of monsters forged from the ruins of the destruction started to infest Teyvat. Beings of pure, unadulterated hate stopping at nothing to take the world down with it. Many innocent lives had been taken from this existence, left as mangled displays of blood and guts next to another similar looking display.

If it weren't for the people's efforts, Teyvat would have crumbled alongside Khaenri'ah. Certainly such a fate one would prefer to avoid.

And if it hadn't been for Barbatos' brave escapade earlier? A young set of lovers would've fallen to the grass, hands interlocked as their organs and guts seeped from the large slash that a beast of this corruption would've sliced across their backs. 

He'd already failed to save enough of his people. He couldn't risk losing anymore.

"I couldn't let them die. They’re people too.”

"You almost died yourself. Are you a God before you’re a human?”

It catches him by surprise. He blinks, dumbfounded, peering to meet her gaze. His aquatic eyes mix with her deeper ones, finding it harder to find his reflection within them.

He knows it's true, and it's that tiny little fact alone that gets him. The fact he lets her get to him, let her have the advantage, break down his perfectly curated walls of iron. Walls so iron-tight, even the people standing right next to them fail to notice their presence. 

Was he a God before he was a human? Was he, a walking concoction of flesh and bones, the complete opposite of what exactly he was? 

He hated the fact she knew how to get at him.

His hands curl into fists, gaze flickering over to allow the morning sun to further cover his face. As if, in some way, it could cleanse him of all his sins. Bask him in the gaze of complete and utter redemption, "That's what an Archon does, is it not? He dies for his people. He puts them first.” 

((It’s spoken in a mocking tone—practically infested with irony.))

"Not this one," She says, turning back round, "This one stays alive for them."

There's an eerie silence. 

Seraphine, Isaroths fox companion from earlier pads in, the jingle of her collar softly tugging away at the silence. She jumps up next to Barbatos, and the Archon responds by doting a few headpats to the little creature. It settles comfortably beside him. 

"You should head into town as soon as you're able." Isaroth comments, switching the topic, "Every day you waste is another day the inevitable creeps closer."

A sigh. He runs his hands through his hair, wincing at the gash upon his forehead, "Mm.. I have an appointment booked with one of the nuns tomorrow."

"Sister Viktoria?"

"Sister Viktoria."

Isaroth nods. "Well, be sure to arrange something by the end of the meeting. If you're able to find a partner quickly, the reproduction process—"

"Reproduction? Isaroth, how crude of you to talk about such a thing so openly..!" Despite the teasing lilt to his voice, an underlying tone of worry couldn't help but fester. Was he entirely opposed to the idea of creating new kin? Somewhat. Did it worry him even more that the entire nation would crumble to its demise if he didn't reproduce?

Extremely.

He could joke and jest about it all he liked, but the inevitable was, well, inevitable—he'd have to find a wife to settle down with and reproduce, else the throne of Anemo would crumble.

After the destruction of Khaenri'ah, a type of prophet had visited him; forged from the hatred and sorrow from the people he’d helped lead to their graves, a curse of sorts was placed upon him.

“If the throne of Anemo does not have a ruler born of his blood, the corruption of the land will infest and turn him into a monster of his own creation; undoubtedly, yes, the Anemo Archon will corrupt and burn down his city if he does not turn down his throne to his next of kin.”

So that was clearly not good. 

In order to actually reproduce said kin, he’d need to find a wife, of course—not even Archons could make babies appear out of thin air. 

It wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned his post-cataclysm arc to go, but alas. Life never seemed to go how Barbatos would've preferred it to go nowadays.

“You’re going to have to get to it eventually,” Isaroth settles down upon an armchair, legs crossed, “Why not talk about it? You will have to know how to please a woman in the bedroom to produce healthy offspring.”

You know that incredibly awkward conversation you had with your parents about the ‘birds and the bees’? This is exactly what this whole ordeal felt like. But for an Archon who'd existed for around 2200 years or so at this point, it was one of the most shamelessly humiliating things he'd ever experienced.

A loud blush stained his cheeks, his wings fluttering softly, "Okay okay, I get it.. We'll have this talk when I actually find a wife, yeah?"

"Right." She hums, a content smile lining her lips, "I trust you'll do all you can to ensure her and your happiness, Barbatos."

He awkwardly grins at this, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his head, "You know I wouldn't do anything less."

The two sit comfortably in silence for the rest of their morning.

─── ✦

The city of Mondstadt is quiet in the morning.

The usual hustle and bustle of its townsfolk cease to only a quiet murmur here and there.  The occasional stall owner may make a slight disturbance as he opens up shop, the lingering sounds of cash being sorted and signs being flipped to signal their opening. 

His feet made a gentle tap against the softened marble. As to avoid unnecessary attention, he’d specifically booked his meeting for extremely early in the morning. The wounds that adorned him had mostly cleared up by now, his half sliced wing puffed up and back to usual.

Isaroth had done an impeccable job of assuring his appearance was up to scratch—after all, in her mind, would his future wife really want to see him looking so.. dishevelled? 

Barbatos sighs at that. The fact he even had to be doing this—at six o’clock in the morning, no less—was a crime in itself. He didn’t want to cruelly shackle down and steal someone's entire future away. He didn’t want to take a woman's dreams, hopes, aspirations so selfishly from her under the pretence it was for the ‘greater good.’

What if the woman he married had no intentions of ever settling down? What if she was a free spirit, a wanderer, a woman who craved to feel the sun upon her skin and the wind running within her hair?

It made him feel a little nauseous. In truth, he had absolutely no idea as to how he’d even go about this whole wife picking process. Isaroth had urged him to speak to a member of the church, and perhaps find a lovely little devotee who would take care of him and their baby.

But did Barbatos really want that? Did he want someone who was dedicated to the idea of him, as a God, and not the actual man behind it? Behind the eons of knowledge and wisdom, beneath it all he was merely a tiny little wind spirit who enjoyed the occasional sliced apple here and there.

These were roles he had to play, parts he had to master for the entertainment of his audience. Forced to perform in a never ending show of excellence, never feeling anything other than what was within his pre-written lines.

It was a pitiful existence.

The fact he even had to stay and watch over his people directly irked him. Freedom, to the God of it, was something his people deserved without exceptions—they had no place within his own affairs, just as he had zero place in theirs.

He wasn’t supposed to directly mingle with his people as Barbatos. It went against everything he’d fought for all those centuries ago.

Another sigh. As he trails up the walkway to the church, he can’t help but notice the work being done upon the roof—as a result of all the destruction, a lot of Mondstadts structures had been heavily damaged. They’d done their best to salvage what they could, but a lot of its most prized structures had been carelessly strewn aside.

The doors to the chapel instantly swing open, a set of sisters eagerly awaiting his arrival. One goes to bow, however the other elbows her slightly.

“Hey, don’t you remember? Barbatos said he doesn’t want us to bow to him.. we need to act normal!” The first girl yells, brows furrowed.

The girl in question silently gasps, a hand coming up to her mouth, “Oh.. oh, archons, you’re right!! Do you think he noticed..?”

The two sisters look towards him, waiting. Watching. 

And in response? He simply smiles, acting as if he was none the wiser, “Good morning, sisters! I trust Mother Viktoria is available as of now?” 

They all nod, excitedly, extending a hand to point him in her general direction. The second girl from earlier speaks, “Yes, she is. She’s just downstairs.. we hope you’re doing okay this lovely morning, Barbatos!”

Another nun perks up, nodding respectfully towards him. “If you need anything, anything at all, don’t be afraid to ask. We’re here to accommodate your needs accordingly.”

“You look very handsome today, Barbatos!” A smaller girl praises, giggling childishly.

“Yes, so handsome.. is that a new hairstyle you’re trying?”

"It looks so pretty! I love your hair!"

Barbatos can’t help but feel special—if you had four pretty ladies doting you with endless affection and praise, how could you not find it charming? 

“My, what lovely company this church has.”  He hums, placing a hand on his hip, “I always knew my followers would show such hospitality! Now, tell me, down the stairs to the left is where Mother Viktoria is, correct?”

The sisters seem to be flattered at his words, their pale cheeks turning a rose red. He can’t help but stifle a laugh—despite his order to treat him like a normal church-goer, their very obvious adoration from him shining through lustrously.  They all nod shyly, confirming the answer to his query.

“She’s in the process of her morning prayers.. but I’m sure she’ll put them on pause to talk to you.”

“Who wouldn’t..?” one whispers.

Said girl was instantly elbowed by her companion.

Barbatos chuckled again, nodding in thanks, "Hehe, it seems I have some super fans here! I'll be sure to catch up with you ladies soon, okay?" Waving goodbye and setting off, he carefully padded his way down into the church’s basement.

The room in itself was dimly lit, only the sickly green fluorescent lights of the ceiling as the only source of light. A large altar of Barbatos stood at the center of the room, various offerings scattered around the statue.

Mother Viktoria, a woman of a frail and short demeanour, sat down upon her knees at an altar—a rosary lay within her hands, whisperings of her daily morning prayers filling Barbatos’ ears. 

“Mother Viktoria,” He interjected, voice careful as to not startle her, “You could’ve saved your prayers till you got to see me in person, hm~? You do have your very own walking altar at your disposal, you know!”

Her eyes widened, shifting her gaze to meet his, “Lord Barbatos, I.. I didn’t see you there. Good morning.” Shifting off her knees, more of her stature came into view. As the head of the church she wore a traditional nun attire, black robes bracketing her frail form. A set of hooded, deep emerald eyes lined her pale complexion, a silk white veil covering what would've been a set of chestnut coloured locks. 

Bowing respectfully, she walked towards a table with a bottle of alcohol,  "Would you like a glass? I've prepared a special offering of Dandelion Wine for you."

As much as he would've loved a little kickstarter to get him going for the day, he knew more than anyone he'd need to be sober and alert during this meeting. He shook his head, politely declining, "No thank you, Sister. Gotta stay sober on the job, you know?"

The other seemed content with this. She sat down upon a nearby table and chairs, Barbatos sitting opposite.  

"So, I see you've come to speak to me about this… prophecy of yours?" She began, speaking carefully–as a woman who'd dedicated her entire life to this God, to be sitting and having such a casual conversation with the object of her worship was truly something.

"Yup! You see, as I mentioned before, for all our powers and abilities, not even archons have the capability to create new life like that.. I initially was going to settle for one of the townsfolk, but a friend of mine suggested I speak to you about choosing one of the sisters."

Viktoria nodded intently. She tapped a wrinkled finger to her chin, thinking, "Oh, well… a lot of my girls would certainly jump at the opportunity to marry an archon. Is there anything in particular you're looking for?" 

"A non virgin."

There's a slight pause.

((The only reason he even wanted a woman of this nature due to Isaroth. She'd mentioned how these types of ladies might be easier to 'romance' in the bedroom. With experience comes knowledge, he guessed.))

".. All nuns are virgins, my lord."

"Ah." He blinks, taken aback. Was that really the life they were due to lead? He had no memory of ever mentioning that anywhere in his poems… "Well, I guess in that case.. Do you have any recommendations? Someone who you think would be able to handle the pressure."

This entire thing made him a little sick in his mouth. Treating women like cattle, objects to be auctioned off and sold.. Gods above, he prayed this would end out working in his favour. He prayed it would end up going in their favour, as now he had to take care of a wife and a child too.

He was starting a family of convenience, not just a marriage. He'd have to hold his very own kin within his arms one day, coddle and cradle it to sleep, teach it all he knew of being an archon. Tell them their only purpose of existence was for the betterment of their nation. They were born out of necessity, not need. 

"Well," Her voice tugged him out of his thoughts, aqua eyes flickering up to meet her own. "I have four maidens in mind... Perhaps we could bring back Ludi Harpastum for this? Four potential brides competing for their archons affections. The people of Mondstadt could use something to invest in, too. They all miss the festivals." 

That much was true–his people were trying to return to normal, act as how they were before, but such heavy loss couldn't help but devastate the nation. Festivals like Ludi Harpastum and Windblume had been cancelled the past years, only just starting to be talked about re-starting again among the Knights of Favonius. In fact, they'd even missed this year's Windblume. 

But Ludi Harpastum? It was about a month or so away, so maybe they could move the Harpastum forward? Have it prepared as usual, with the added addition of his whole wife hunting process in the background. They'd wed on the final day, the happy couple taking their first step into married life together.

It wasn't one of the worst ideas he'd ever heard.

In fact, he thinks it might've been one of the best.

To be fair, it was only really Isaroth who was rushing him to find a wife. If this whole festival thing happened, he had around fifteen or so days to actually know the woman before they were wed off. Was it the most ideal time frame? Absolutely not. Would he take that over literally anything else? In a heartbeat, yes. 

"I like it," The corners of his lips curve upwards, "In fact, I think it's great–But would the four be alright with actually marrying and having children with me? I.. I want to make sure they're comfortable, too."

Such a benevolent God. 

Viktoria sighs, crossing her legs, "Hm.. perhaps, but I can't be too sure. Why not offer a reward of sorts? A prize for their compliance."

A prize for their compliance. A reward for offering themselves up to be bred like cattle. 

What on earth have you gotten yourself into now, Barbatos.

"A reward." He repeats, sighing. What on earth would a mortal girl want as a thanks for her future?

Then it hits him.

"Aha, I've got it!–why don't I grant a wish? Anything they want.. Within reason, of course."

Although he couldn't make babies appear from thin air, he could grant wishes. Things such as never ending riches, hair that never thinned, eternal good luck, and so much more. As long as it wasn't anything too extreme, he could make it happen.

Viktoria seems to like this idea. Her smile slightly widens, nodding in agreement, "Perfect. I think that's a wonderful idea, My Lord. I know it would most definitely work on anyone, not just those four girls."

Mother Viktoria couldn't have been more correct. So correct, that a living breathing manifestation of how correct she was appeared.

 The door you were currently eavesdropping behind swung open, sending you toppling flat on your face. Your little wind spirit companion dropped too, a loud jingle filling the room as he smacked the ground.

Both Barbatos and Viktoria gasped, instantly turning toward you. 

"[Name]? What on earth are you doing?!" The poor woman looked as if she'd seen a ghost.

Well, this certainly wasn't good.

How could you possibly explain yourself now?

tag list is open!! ↴

@rainingcecilias

[cringyperson]

Hi haha here’s some art

Don’t ask about the dragon I haven’t drawn one in like what? Years idk lmao

Also daybreaker from mlp and sd dream lol. They’re talking crap about you or something.

Like the only screen time she had in mlp gen 4 was amazing she did it all. She laughed like a mad woman. Acted like a gleeful kid, has a narcissistic attitude (legit calls herself prettier and more powerful than celestia like wth lmao) tried to take down her sister and did I mention the laughing

Swad would definitely do the same stuff as ‘er lol

I’ve been watching rewatching eddsworld lately and I’m so damn sure Swad would sing Lesley gore’s songs lol.

Terror is having a field day/sar

[hunters-vigil]

The Archon's Baby - Chapter 25 - You Never Know Who Is Listening.

First Chapter Previous Chapter future chapters on ao3 here

Warnings: pregnant!reader, pregnancy symptoms, mention of dead bodies, brief derogratory language.

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3. Reader is not the traveller. Reader's adoptive sisters are Chasca and Chuychu.

"Oh hey, it's you! How are you doing with... everything?" Paimon floated over with a grin, quickly correcting herself from asking about your pregnancy in public, directly anyway. Although your bump wasn't exactly easy to hide anymore...

"We're okay, how have you two been? I met Nepecha by the way, thank you for all you did in saving her with Xilonen. " You asked, giving the Traveller a grateful look as they'd given Paimon a deadpan expression to watch her words, "oh... also something about aphids, Xilonen mentioned that too?"

"We're okay, we're just preparing to head to Sumeru! It's Nahida, Lesser Lord Kusanali's birthday, so we're going to help with the Sabzeruz Festival and celebrate with everyone!" Paimon explained, gesturing to the supplies that the two had been buying in the stadium.

"Ah, that's the festival with the carriage and sweets are thrown, right? How about you two take some of this for the Dendro Archon, you probably have loads in your bag already, but this chocolate tastes really good, and if Kusanali has a sweet tooth, I think she'll like it." You led the two over to a stall, ignoring what was on display in favour of talking to the owner, who nodded and revealed the specific chocolates from nearby.

"Wait, Paimon has never seen these ones before!" Paimon's eyes glowed as you passed the chocolates to the Traveller, passing the stall owner some mora before they could.

"They're really good, I've been craving a lot so I've cornered the market down here on it all, there's some stuff from other nations here too, but not a lot-"

"We'll bring you back some candies from Sumeru as a thank you." The Traveller beamed, tucking the chocolates away into their bag before Paimon could eat them, much to her pouting.

"Paimon, Golden Outlander, here." You held out two chocolates, one for each of them.

"Ooh so yummy! Wait, Paimon wants to know why you call the Traveller that, you never call them Traveller?" Paimon ate the chocolate quickly, floating closer to you as you hummed.

"Because I think people should be calling you by your name, not that moniker. Although you don't always respond to the name you've given people either... it's whatever, probably safer for you with how Celestia can be. You two travel safely to Sumeru okay?" you smiled softly, ignoring the confusion on Paimon's face and the relief on the Golden Outlander's, who smiled back at you, waving as the two headed out of the stadium, and soon, out of Natlan.

///

It had been a week of rebuilding, with the Traveller and Paimon out of the picture recovering and enjoying the Sabzerus Festival. Mavuika was all over the place, hoping on Flamestrider as she went to check on each individual tribe's recovery. The losses were piling up, while Kinich was trying to help identify bodies, you were trying to coordinate the supply shipments from the stadium, but you were struggling.

"You think because you're allegedly having the Archon's baby that you can take charge here?"

Your eyes widened at the insinuation, holding onto the clipboard you'd been reading to try figure out what supplies were to be sent where.

"What in the abyss are you trying to suggest?" you glared, folding your arms at the man, clipboard by your side. It was one of the two who spoke blasphemy about Kachina and Mavuika during the last Pilgrimmage.

"Oh please, why would a God ever have a baby with you? You're not even a warrior. You're just a whore that the Archon took pity on." His name didn't matter to you, his words shouldn't matter either, but instead, your breath hitched, frozen in place as everyone around you went eerily quiet.

"Archon?" his voice trembled, the God of War's stare laced with ice and solemnity. Her heels were the only thing heard as she walked over, not saying a word as the man trembled. "Archon, I, uh..."

Forcing his gaze away from the intensity of Haborym's, he looked at you, before he ran, leaving everyone to stare as Mavuika's gaze followed him out of sight.

"Is that really how people see me-" you began to question, your eyes glassing over with tears, but a loud thud caught your attention. Turning on your heel to hurry towards the sound, Mavuika gently placed her hand on her shoulder to stop you.

"That isn't worth your attention." Her cold stare was long gone, but her professionalism lingered as she took the clipboard from your hands, glancing over it, "Iansan has volunteered a caravan to transport these supplies. You organised everyone here well, despite his insults."

A shaky sigh escaped your lips, wishing Mavuika could do more than stand by you in this moment, but being able to bask in the presence of Natlan's undying sun, the love of your life, was enough. You needed to get used to not relying on Mavuika, especially after her impending death.

"I'm sorry..." your gaze remained on the floor, looking over your bump as Mavuika and yourself headed back to the Speaker's Chamber.

"Why are you apologising? You were the one who was insulted."

"But, his words weren't entirely wrong. You're an Archon, and as much as I emphasise you are more than that, everyone else sees you as the Pyro Archon, the God of War. Not the God of Love or Marriage, so getting tangled up with me- I was barely a warrior before, I'm someone who never even participated in the Pilgrimmage because I didn't want to ruin Chasca's winning streak by being on her team... and I- I never wanted to distract you and ruin your 500 year goal to end this millenia long war, Mavuika." Turning on your heel, you were about to walk out, hoping that a supply caravan would be heading towards your tribe so you could give Mavuika space.

"You could never ruin it. As the Archon, I'm great at problem-solving, but often, people just want companionship. I wasn't able to provide this for anyone when I returned, but you provided it to me in a way that felt warm, a kindred spirit of fire, who loves to explore and find out everything. I know you were caught sneaking to Ochkanatlan multiple times, and I know how much you care, for me, the plan, for Natlan. You gave me more than enough motivation to complete my plan, by giving me a close connection in this time... something I didn't have 500 years ago. I may have been your first love, but you are mine too..." Mavuika's face burned at that reminder, watching as you turned around to listen.

You had not believed her about that confession, at first. She could have anyone in Natlan that she wanted after all. Mavuika knew how to kiss better than you did, but the way she froze up, hair lighting up and her jaw hanging open the first time the two of you were intimate... it was like Mavuika had always put her duty to her nation before her own needs, until that moment anyway.

"I told you before, I regret nothing we have done, I will always love you, even in death. I will always love our children too. Please let them know that-" Mavuika was cut off as you frowned, your hand immediately going to your bump as your Archon froze in fear, "are you alright? Is it the twins?"

"Give me your hand." You removed her glove carefully, bringing her bare hand over your bump to feel what you just felt. Mavuika's eyes widened at the feeling, the movement of one of the twins felt beneath her palm, "they're kicking... I spoke to my ma-mother before, she said that I'd feel them moving but this, they're kicking, Mavuika. I think they heard you." Mavuika removed her other glove with her teeth, her eyes brimming with tears as you brought her other hand to where you were guessing the other twin was kicking too, hoping it was them and not the other foot of twin A.

"They, they can hear me?" to anyone else, Mavuika would sound uncharacteristically shy, but you knew sides to her that she kept hidden because of the war. Mavuika pushed away any ideas of love, companionship, because it didn't matter if the war was still going... but now? Mavuika's sun eyes were glassy, almost glowing with emotion as she let out a breath.

"They can hear you, hear their mother." You moved your hand, reaching up to cup her cheek. There was no option to hide her emotion with her sunglasses this time.

"I love you," Mavuika closed her eyes momentarily, leaning into your touch, before shifting and dropping to her knees, "I love you two too," she spoke directly to your bump, not seeing how you flustered at her on her knees in front of you. She was too distracted by grinning goofily at your bump, how the twins were kicking her palms through your belly.

You were lucky nobody was about to walk into the Speaker's Chamber and witness this... Chasca would probably tackle Mavuika, and neither you or Chuychu could physically stop her now.

///

"Hey, can we talk?" Chasca knocked on the door to the Speaker's Chamber, getting no response as she headed inside, looking for who she was after. The staff had told her you and Mavuika were there but, was anyone around?