archonofthestars

[archonofthestars]

Sorry about the delays in getting any content up; this week was a rough one so I gave myself a break from all writing and drawing to recover.

Remember kids, take care of your mental health!

[archonofthestars]

To the Victor Go the Spoils

Phainon finds an interesting ancient Kremnoan tradition and decides to take advantage of it.

Characters: Phainon, Mydei, Algaea (mentioned) Tags: NSFW (gets steamy but nothing actually happens), mentions of conquering and spoils of war

AN: A gift for keroroppi who gave me the brain rot with their fic and really wanted to see what kind of spicy stuff I could write. This is my first ever NSFW story, oh boy; don't tell my mom.

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊    

“Mydeimos, are your eyes still closed?” There was a teasing lilt to the Deliverer’s voice that always put him somewhat on edge. He never knew what to expect when Phainon had a playful streak going.

“If you don’t hurry up,” Mydei threatened. “They won’t be in 5 seconds.”

“Alright, alright! So impatient.” 

He had to wonder how he let himself get into this position, but he knew exactly why. Phainon was unmatched in getting the Kremnoan to agree to his ideas, regardless of how stupid they sounded. And it was the worst kept secret in Okhmea; whenever Mydei put up resistance to an idea of theirs, Aglaea and Tribbie would send Phainon in to do their dirty work.

If he knew that this would be his fate tumbling into bed with Phainon all those months ago…

…well, he still would’ve done it, he just would’ve bitched and complained more. He really had it bad for the Deliverer, much as he refused to admit it out loud. 

The faint swish of delicate fabric and soft metallic tinkling alerted him that Phainon was coming nearer. And then a warm, heavy weight was settling onto his lap.

“Good boy,” Phainon murmured, suddenly against his ear. It sent a spark down Mydei’s spine; damn this man. “You can open your eyes now.”

The sight that greeted the Crown Prince was nothing he had ever expected. And yet, it was everything he had ever wanted in his wildest dreams. Gone was Phainon’s traditional Chrysos Heir outfit, and in its place was, well, something Mydei could only really describe as an outfit that a brazen courtesan would wear to seduce a king. 

His chest was completely bare, leaving the large expanses of his chest, shoulders, and abdomen completely on display. And he bore the same red markings as Mydei, painted to match the prince perfectly. The color stood out starkly against his pale skin, drawing an eye to follow their sensual paths all over Phainon’s body.

Dozens of delicate, golden necklaces adorned his clavicles while an elaborate golden and black choker fit snugly on his neck. Golden bangles, wrought with elaborate sun motifs, were wrapped around Phainon’s upper arms and wrists. Very fine and sheer red cloth draped between the bangles, sensually following any movement of his arms. 

The cloth matched the color of the loose pants he wore. Amidst the billowing fabric, Mydei could spot very high slits on the thighs that showed off winks of pale skin. And on top of the pants, like a strange belt, were more delicate golden chains that shone in the lamplight. 

Nestled in the white hair of the Deliverer was an elaborate golden tiara. Several golden chains dangled off the back of it, resting on top of a sheer red veil that trailed down past Phainon’s hips and almost to the floor. Golden and red makeup followed his lash lines and a sheer red gloss glimmered on his smirking lips. 

“Like what you see, Your Highness?” His voice was low and breathy, and it instantly made the blood in Mydei’s veins burn with want. 

“What…” Mydei trailed off, hands coming up to encircle Phainon’s waist. Phainon was a similar build to him, maybe not quite as muscular and missing a few inches, but no one would have ever called him “delicate”. And yet somehow, this outfit made him look just that.

Delicate, beautiful and rather…fuckable. It felt a little harder to breathe than it did a moment ago and something swooped low in his gut.

“I heard an interesting anecdote recently,” Phainon said, wrapping his arms around Mydei’s neck and rolling his hips closer. Mydei was quickly losing the fight to keep his attention on Phainon’s words, his hands wandering. “Apparently, when Kremnos conquered a nation, it was a tradition for the losing people to send their finest men and women to dance before the King. If the King liked someone he saw, he would bed the lucky soul and be more merciful to their people.”

That tradition had died out long ago, long before Mydei’s father had taken the throne. But it remained a popular story about Kremnos, nonetheless. “And so you decided to play the part of a spoil of war?” Mydei asked, trying to sound ‘incredulous’ but sounding more ‘desperate’ than anything. His hands moved upwards, trailing past soft, pink nipples that perked under his touch. A soft shiver rippled through Phainon.

“Mmmm, it seemed like a fun idea the more I looked into it,” the Deliverer confessed breathlessly. His hips stopped just shy of pressing up against where Mydei really wanted him, where he was beginning to ache for friction. “The stories made it sound like a night with a Kremnoan king was like tasting the nectar of the gods; nothing would ever compare.

“And besides,” Phainon continued, his warm breath trailing across the shell of Mydei’s ear. “I’m always up for an excuse to dress up like a courtesan for you, especially in your colors.”

Hearing Phainon say he was dressed as a courtesan in Mydei's colors made Mydei want to pin him to the nearest wall and show him what it really meant to be a Kremnoan king's spoil of war. Take him apart piece by piece until Phainon was begging, gasping, for Mydei to use him however he wished. If Mydei played his cards right, he could get Phainon rather teary-eyed when he begged.

“So tell me,” Mydei said, his voice low and raspy with want. One hand snuck into Phainon’s hair, curling around the white locks, while the other slid down to press at the front of his pants. He could feel the hard line of his cock, hot and heavy against his palm. “Where did you find an outfit like this in the holy city?”

“I…may owe Algaea. A really big favor,” Phainon confessed, looking slightly embarrassed. It was the first time his “sultry spoil of war” facade had broken, and a faint pink showed up on his cheeks. “But do you really want to hear about how I requested this from Algaea and lost all my dignity while I’m like this in front of you?”

In any other situation, Mydei would love to hear how Phainon managed to completely embarrass himself in front of the other demigod. But he did have a point. “Later then,” he murmured, squeezing the cock in his hands. Phainon moaned, his head rolling back and the long pale line of his throat exposed. 

“After all, you are my conquest.” Mydei reminded him, nipping at his throat. “And it’s time for you to satisfy your king.”

[archonofthestars]

To the Victor Go the Spoils

Phainon finds an interesting ancient Kremnoan tradition and decides to take advantage of it.

Characters: Phainon, Mydei, Algaea (mentioned) Tags: NSFW (gets steamy but nothing actually happens), mentions of conquering and spoils of war

AN: A gift for keroroppi who gave me the brain rot with their fic and really wanted to see what kind of spicy stuff I could write. This is my first ever NSFW story, oh boy; don't tell my mom.

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊    

“Mydeimos, are your eyes still closed?” There was a teasing lilt to the Deliverer’s voice that always put him somewhat on edge. He never knew what to expect when Phainon had a playful streak going.

“If you don’t hurry up,” Mydei threatened. “They won’t be in 5 seconds.”

“Alright, alright! So impatient.” 

He had to wonder how he let himself get into this position, but he knew exactly why. Phainon was unmatched in getting the Kremnoan to agree to his ideas, regardless of how stupid they sounded. And it was the worst kept secret in Okhmea; whenever Mydei put up resistance to an idea of theirs, Aglaea and Tribbie would send Phainon in to do their dirty work.

If he knew that this would be his fate tumbling into bed with Phainon all those months ago…

…well, he still would’ve done it, he just would’ve bitched and complained more. He really had it bad for the Deliverer, much as he refused to admit it out loud. 

The faint swish of delicate fabric and soft metallic tinkling alerted him that Phainon was coming nearer. And then a warm, heavy weight was settling onto his lap.

“Good boy,” Phainon murmured, suddenly against his ear. It sent a spark down Mydei’s spine; damn this man. “You can open your eyes now.”

The sight that greeted the Crown Prince was nothing he had ever expected. And yet, it was everything he had ever wanted in his wildest dreams. Gone was Phainon’s traditional Chrysos Heir outfit, and in its place was, well, something Mydei could only really describe as an outfit that a brazen courtesan would wear to seduce a king. 

His chest was completely bare, leaving the large expanses of his chest, shoulders, and abdomen completely on display. And he bore the same red markings as Mydei, painted to match the prince perfectly. The color stood out starkly against his pale skin, drawing an eye to follow their sensual paths all over Phainon’s body.

Dozens of delicate, golden necklaces adorned his clavicles while an elaborate golden and black choker fit snugly on his neck. Golden bangles, wrought with elaborate sun motifs, were wrapped around Phainon’s upper arms and wrists. Very fine and sheer red cloth draped between the bangles, sensually following any movement of his arms. 

The cloth matched the color of the loose pants he wore. Amidst the billowing fabric, Mydei could spot very high slits on the thighs that showed off winks of pale skin. And on top of the pants, like a strange belt, were more delicate golden chains that shone in the lamplight. 

Nestled in the white hair of the Deliverer was an elaborate golden tiara. Several golden chains dangled off the back of it, resting on top of a sheer red veil that trailed down past Phainon’s hips and almost to the floor. Golden and red makeup followed his lash lines and a sheer red gloss glimmered on his smirking lips. 

“Like what you see, Your Highness?” His voice was low and breathy, and it instantly made the blood in Mydei’s veins burn with want. 

“What…” Mydei trailed off, hands coming up to encircle Phainon’s waist. Phainon was a similar build to him, maybe not quite as muscular and missing a few inches, but no one would have ever called him “delicate”. And yet somehow, this outfit made him look just that.

Delicate, beautiful and rather…fuckable. It felt a little harder to breathe than it did a moment ago and something swooped low in his gut.

“I heard an interesting anecdote recently,” Phainon said, wrapping his arms around Mydei’s neck and rolling his hips closer. Mydei was quickly losing the fight to keep his attention on Phainon’s words, his hands wandering. “Apparently, when Kremnos conquered a nation, it was a tradition for the losing people to send their finest men and women to dance before the King. If the King liked someone he saw, he would bed the lucky soul and be more merciful to their people.”

That tradition had died out long ago, long before Mydei’s father had taken the throne. But it remained a popular story about Kremnos, nonetheless. “And so you decided to play the part of a spoil of war?” Mydei asked, trying to sound ‘incredulous’ but sounding more ‘desperate’ than anything. His hands moved upwards, trailing past soft, pink nipples that perked under his touch. A soft shiver rippled through Phainon.

“Mmmm, it seemed like a fun idea the more I looked into it,” the Deliverer confessed breathlessly. His hips stopped just shy of pressing up against where Mydei really wanted him, where he was beginning to ache for friction. “The stories made it sound like a night with a Kremnoan king was like tasting the nectar of the gods; nothing would ever compare.

“And besides,” Phainon continued, his warm breath trailing across the shell of Mydei’s ear. “I’m always up for an excuse to dress up like a courtesan for you, especially in your colors.”

Hearing Phainon say he was dressed as a courtesan in Mydei's colors made Mydei want to pin him to the nearest wall and show him what it really meant to be a Kremnoan king's spoil of war. Take him apart piece by piece until Phainon was begging, gasping, for Mydei to use him however he wished. If Mydei played his cards right, he could get Phainon rather teary-eyed when he begged.

“So tell me,” Mydei said, his voice low and raspy with want. One hand snuck into Phainon’s hair, curling around the white locks, while the other slid down to press at the front of his pants. He could feel the hard line of his cock, hot and heavy against his palm. “Where did you find an outfit like this in the holy city?”

“I…may owe Algaea. A really big favor,” Phainon confessed, looking slightly embarrassed. It was the first time his “sultry spoil of war” facade had broken, and a faint pink showed up on his cheeks. “But do you really want to hear about how I requested this from Algaea and lost all my dignity while I’m like this in front of you?”

In any other situation, Mydei would love to hear how Phainon managed to completely embarrass himself in front of the other demigod. But he did have a point. “Later then,” he murmured, squeezing the cock in his hands. Phainon moaned, his head rolling back and the long pale line of his throat exposed. 

“After all, you are my conquest.” Mydei reminded him, nipping at his throat. “And it’s time for you to satisfy your king.”

[archonofthestars]

Dancing

Kinich doesn’t expect to have to learn how to dance to get into an ancient Natlanese ruin with Kachina and Mualani.

Characters: Kinich, Mualani, Kachina, Ajaw Tags: Ajaw being a lil shit, as per the usual

AN: A gift ficlet for a wonderful friend of mine; she requested Kinich and dancing! And shout out to my little brother for helping me come up with this idea, and yes, it is inspired by Zuko and Aang's dance from AtLA.

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊    

Going out on expeditions with others is very rare for Kinich. By nature, he prefers to do things on his own (he doesn’t count Ajaw, that menace has to be with him, no matter what). It’s easier that way; he only has to watch out for himself.

That being said, at least this excursion had him partnered with the two people he can tolerate best: Mualani and Kachina. By using all her charisma and some very convoluted arguments, Mualani somehow convinced him to let them accompany him. When she was determined, nothing would stop her.

His current commission was to visit some ancient Natlanese ruins; supposedly, according to his employers, there was a special treasure hidden in those ruins. But since they were from outside Natlan, they felt it best to hire someone local to get the job done.

The price tag was big enough for Kinich to agree without much hesitation.

It had taken two days of traveling to get to their destination, and Kachina and Mualani had babbled most of the way about the possibilities of what waited in the ruins. Mualani had her bets on an ancient dragon guarding a horde of treasure, while Kachina felt like there might be old books or ancient murals. 

But when they finally arrived at the ruins, their first problem became immediately apparent.

There were no clues on how to open the door, and time hadn’t created any convenient openings in the stone walls or roofs, either.

Multiple attempts at elemental attacks and even Kachina’s Turbo-Twirly did nothing to get the door to open. Whatever the doors were made of, brute force wouldn't open them. And they were running out of time; the light was starting to dip below the horizon.

“HAHAA, lowly mortals!” Ajaw crowed, waving his tiny arms. “Your brains are so small and stupid, you can’t even figure out how to open this door! Truly pathetic!!”

“Then let’s see the Great K’uhul Ajaw get the door open on his own, since he clearly knows the answer.” Kinich said, his tone unimpressed.

“The Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw will not lower himself to do the work of lowly mortals!” The pixelated saurian shrieked back, his form swelling red with anger. “Who do you think you are?!”

“So you don’t have any ideas either,” Kinich translated, smirking slightly. 

“You SCUM!! If I had my true power as the great dragon sovereign, I would burn you all in turnfire for a thousand years!!”

“While that’s a very lovely thought and all,” Mualani suddenly said, calling from across the circular courtyard where she stood with Kachina. “I think I found the way in!”

Shooing Ajaw away, Kinich made his way over to the two girls. They were staring at a plaque, long buried under foliage, that depicted several figures in different poses.

At the bottom of the plaque, Kinich could see some faded writing: “Offer your sacrifice to the dragons to be accepted.”

“What kind of offering do the dragons want?” Kachina asked, cocking her head in confusion. “That could be anything…”

“They want this,” Mualani smiled, tapping her finger against the figures. “Remember how we found those stones that sink down if you stepped on them, but they didn’t seem to do anything? My theory is that you have to follow the steps of this dance to trigger all of them in the right pattern.”

“So you think the door can be opened…by dancing,” Kinich summarized flatly. He was already getting a bad feeling about this.

“Correction, if we,” Mualani gestured between her and Kinich. “Do the dancing. Kachina’s legs are too small to hit the steps correctly. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” She reminded the smaller girl, whose ears drooped sadly.

Kinich stared at Mualani with the most unimpressed look he could muster. Mualani was well known to leap before she looked, both literally and metaphorically, but this felt like a stretch even for her.

“C’mon Kinich! Let’s just try it once, and if it doesn’t work, you can hold it over my head forever!” Mualani wheedled. “What could it hurt?”

He didn’t have any solid retort to that, especially as they were quickly losing daylight. “Alright, fine, let’s do it.”

They took a moment to study the forms before Kinich and Mualani found themselves on opposite ends of the circular courtyard, staring at each other. Taking a deep breath and forcing down his embarrassment, Kinich nodded to Mualani and the two of them began moving through the dance forms. And with each form, Kinich felt those specific stones sink into the ground and settle with a faint “click”.

It seems that Mualani had the right idea, and she grinned at him across the way.

Careful to stay synchronized, the two of them moved their way around the courtyard while Kachina cheered them on. On the last form, the stones beneath his and Mualani’s feet moved with a “CLICK” loud enough to echo through the courtyard. 

For a moment, nothing happened. His face pinched into a frown, wondering what had gone wrong, when the ground suddenly shuddered and rumbled. Ancient mechanisms groaned deep within the temple as they slowly pulled the doors open.

Beyond, the void of the ancient ruins welcomed them; it appeared their offering had been accepted.

“You guys were amazing!!” Kachina cried, running to Mualani and hugging her waist tightly. “That was incredible to watch!” 

“Way to go, Kinich! Mualani cheered, hugging Kachina back and grinning at him. “You’ve got some moves; I had no idea you could dance!”

Clearing his voice awkwardly and trying to will the flush trying to work its way up his neck away, Kinich turned to face the door. “It was nothing,” he dismissed. “Let’s get going.”

[archonofthestars]

Dancing

Kinich doesn’t expect to have to learn how to dance to get into an ancient Natlanese ruin with Kachina and Mualani.

Characters: Kinich, Mualani, Kachina, Ajaw Tags: Ajaw being a lil shit, as per the usual

AN: A gift ficlet for a wonderful friend of mine; she requested Kinich and dancing! And shout out to my little brother for helping me come up with this idea, and yes, it is inspired by Zuko and Aang's dance from AtLA.

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊    

Going out on expeditions with others is very rare for Kinich. By nature, he prefers to do things on his own (he doesn’t count Ajaw, that menace has to be with him, no matter what). It’s easier that way; he only has to watch out for himself.

That being said, at least this excursion had him partnered with the two people he can tolerate best: Mualani and Kachina. By using all her charisma and some very convoluted arguments, Mualani somehow convinced him to let them accompany him. When she was determined, nothing would stop her.

His current commission was to visit some ancient Natlanese ruins; supposedly, according to his employers, there was a special treasure hidden in those ruins. But since they were from outside Natlan, they felt it best to hire someone local to get the job done.

The price tag was big enough for Kinich to agree without much hesitation.

It had taken two days of traveling to get to their destination, and Kachina and Mualani had babbled most of the way about the possibilities of what waited in the ruins. Mualani had her bets on an ancient dragon guarding a horde of treasure, while Kachina felt like there might be old books or ancient murals. 

But when they finally arrived at the ruins, their first problem became immediately apparent.

There were no clues on how to open the door, and time hadn’t created any convenient openings in the stone walls or roofs, either.

Multiple attempts at elemental attacks and even Kachina’s Turbo-Twirly did nothing to get the door to open. Whatever the doors were made of, brute force wouldn't open them. And they were running out of time; the light was starting to dip below the horizon.

“HAHAA, lowly mortals!” Ajaw crowed, waving his tiny arms. “Your brains are so small and stupid, you can’t even figure out how to open this door! Truly pathetic!!”

“Then let’s see the Great K’uhul Ajaw get the door open on his own, since he clearly knows the answer.” Kinich said, his tone unimpressed.

“The Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw will not lower himself to do the work of lowly mortals!” The pixelated saurian shrieked back, his form swelling red with anger. “Who do you think you are?!”

“So you don’t have any ideas either,” Kinich translated, smirking slightly. 

“You SCUM!! If I had my true power as the great dragon sovereign, I would burn you all in turnfire for a thousand years!!”

“While that’s a very lovely thought and all,” Mualani suddenly said, calling from across the circular courtyard where she stood with Kachina. “I think I found the way in!”

Shooing Ajaw away, Kinich made his way over to the two girls. They were staring at a plaque, long buried under foliage, that depicted several figures in different poses.

At the bottom of the plaque, Kinich could see some faded writing: “Offer your sacrifice to the dragons to be accepted.”

“What kind of offering do the dragons want?” Kachina asked, cocking her head in confusion. “That could be anything…”

“They want this,” Mualani smiled, tapping her finger against the figures. “Remember how we found those stones that sink down if you stepped on them, but they didn’t seem to do anything? My theory is that you have to follow the steps of this dance to trigger all of them in the right pattern.”

“So you think the door can be opened…by dancing,” Kinich summarized flatly. He was already getting a bad feeling about this.

“Correction, if we,” Mualani gestured between her and Kinich. “Do the dancing. Kachina’s legs are too small to hit the steps correctly. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” She reminded the smaller girl, whose ears drooped sadly.

Kinich stared at Mualani with the most unimpressed look he could muster. Mualani was well known to leap before she looked, both literally and metaphorically, but this felt like a stretch even for her.

“C’mon Kinich! Let���s just try it once, and if it doesn’t work, you can hold it over my head forever!” Mualani wheedled. “What could it hurt?”

He didn’t have any solid retort to that, especially as they were quickly losing daylight. “Alright, fine, let’s do it.”

They took a moment to study the forms before Kinich and Mualani found themselves on opposite ends of the circular courtyard, staring at each other. Taking a deep breath and forcing down his embarrassment, Kinich nodded to Mualani and the two of them began moving through the dance forms. And with each form, Kinich felt those specific stones sink into the ground and settle with a faint “click”.

It seems that Mualani had the right idea, and she grinned at him across the way.

Careful to stay synchronized, the two of them moved their way around the courtyard while Kachina cheered them on. On the last form, the stones beneath his and Mualani’s feet moved with a “CLICK” loud enough to echo through the courtyard. 

For a moment, nothing happened. His face pinched into a frown, wondering what had gone wrong, when the ground suddenly shuddered and rumbled. Ancient mechanisms groaned deep within the temple as they slowly pulled the doors open.

Beyond, the void of the ancient ruins welcomed them; it appeared their offering had been accepted.

“You guys were amazing!!” Kachina cried, running to Mualani and hugging her waist tightly. “That was incredible to watch!” 

“Way to go, Kinich! Mualani cheered, hugging Kachina back and grinning at him. “You’ve got some moves; I had no idea you could dance!”

Clearing his voice awkwardly and trying to will the flush trying to work its way up his neck away, Kinich turned to face the door. “It was nothing,” he dismissed. “Let’s get going.”

[archonofthestars]

Valentine's Day Drabbles, Part Two

To celebrate the month of love, I took some requests from friends and family about different types of love between Genshin characters (platonic, romantic, familial, etc.) and put them into 100 word drabbles!! Here's the first batch of them ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊   

♡ Qiqi & Baizhu (familial) ♡

It’s very late when a soft, sleepy voice disturbs Baizhu’s work.

“Dr. Baizhu?” Qiqi’s small form appeared at the doorway, her eyes hazy with sleep. “I had…a nightmare…”

“A nightmare? Are you alright?” Baizhu moved and knelt before the zombie girl, brushing strands of hair out of her face.

“I was…alone. And hurting. I was hurting a lot. But…no one came to help me.” Her voice grew smaller and her shoulders hunched inward.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,,” Baizhu reassured, pulling her carefully in an embrace. “Why don’t you stay with me? I’ll hold you until you forget your nightmare.”

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊  

♡ Zhongli/Venti (romantic) ♡

He will never admit his feelings; they stay hidden behind his banter and smiles. “Guess you couldn't leave me behind, you old blockhead! Now I can come bother you all the time!” 

(I'm so glad you're still here. I want to be with you forever.)

But sometimes, Venti swears he can almost hear the same feelings in Zhongli’s words.

“I suppose I will find time to ensure a visit to Mondstat. After all, I must learn to enjoy my retirement to its fullest.”

(I am always here. I will be with you until the stars fall from the heavens.)

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊  

♡ Wriothesley/Clorinde (romantic) ♡

It wasn’t until the Traveler was out of sight that Wriothesley spoke to her.

“You could leave too,” he told Clorinde. The ice rumbled ominously as the primordial seawater slammed against the temporary seal. “Get somewhere safe.”

She would be away from him, but she would be safe. And that’s what mattered.

The Champion Duelist shot him the flattest look he had ever seen. “With all due respect, Your Grace, I'm not leaving you. I’ve got your back, always.”

“What if I ordered you to leave?”

“Then I would call you a fool for trying. I’m not leaving your side.”

[archonofthestars]

Valentine's Day Drabbles, Part Two

To celebrate the month of love, I took some requests from friends and family about different types of love between Genshin characters (platonic, romantic, familial, etc.) and put them into 100 word drabbles!! Here's the first batch of them ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊   

♡ Qiqi & Baizhu (familial) ♡

It’s very late when a soft, sleepy voice disturbs Baizhu’s work.

“Dr. Baizhu?” Qiqi’s small form appeared at the doorway, her eyes hazy with sleep. “I had…a nightmare…”

“A nightmare? Are you alright?” Baizhu moved and knelt before the zombie girl, brushing strands of hair out of her face.

“I was…alone. And hurting. I was hurting a lot. But…no one came to help me.” Her voice grew smaller and her shoulders hunched inward.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,,” Baizhu reassured, pulling her carefully in an embrace. “Why don’t you stay with me? I’ll hold you until you forget your nightmare.”

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊  

♡ Zhongli/Venti (romantic) ♡

He will never admit his feelings; they stay hidden behind his banter and smiles. “Guess you couldn't leave me behind, you old blockhead! Now I can come bother you all the time!” 

(I'm so glad you're still here. I want to be with you forever.)

But sometimes, Venti swears he can almost hear the same feelings in Zhongli’s words.

“I suppose I will find time to ensure a visit to Mondstat. After all, I must learn to enjoy my retirement to its fullest.”

(I am always here. I will be with you until the stars fall from the heavens.)

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊  

♡ Wriothesley/Clorinde (romantic) ♡

It wasn’t until the Traveler was out of sight that Wriothesley spoke to her.

“You could leave too,” he told Clorinde. The ice rumbled ominously as the primordial seawater slammed against the temporary seal. “Get somewhere safe.”

She would be away from him, but she would be safe. And that’s what mattered.

The Champion Duelist shot him the flattest look he had ever seen. “With all due respect, Your Grace, I'm not leaving you. I’ve got your back, always.”

“What if I ordered you to leave?”

“Then I would call you a fool for trying. I’m not leaving your side.”

[archonofthestars]

Valentine's Day Drabbles, Part One

To celebrate the month of love, I took some requests from friends and family about different types of love between Genshin characters (platonic, romantic, familial, etc.) and put them into 100 word drabbles!! Here's the first batch of them ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊   

♡ Wanderer & Nahida (familial) ♡

Love is not a simple thing for him. The emotional scars from his mother creator don’t fade, even as the centuries pass. He has spent those years perfecting the ability to keep others out, tightly locking the doors around his heart.

But Nahida’s love is like the plants she rules over; it found the tiniest cracks in his doors and slowly pushed in. He fights it with cruel words and a bad attitude; the inevitable loss can’t hurt if he makes her leave him first. 

And yet, she continues to stay, smiling at him in that knowing way of hers.

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊   

♡ Ratio & Aventurine (platonic) ♡

“Gambler,” Ratio stared down at the sea of rubber ducks in his hotel room. “Pray tell, what possessed you to buy out the entire store’s stock of rubber ducks?”

Aventurine grinned at him, holding a rubber duck that looked a lot like the famous Robin. “I happen to know a very particular doctor that likes to have a companion or two during bath-time, so I figured I’d buy a supply for you.”

“I prefer bathing with a singular rubber duck. Not an army’s worth.”

“Well, think of it this way: at least you’ll never run out of options for bath-time.”

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊   

♡ Xiao/Lumine (romantic) ♡

(based on the Liyue Poetry event in 4.1)

While Paimon and the others were distracted at the water’s edge, Lumine seized the moment to step closer. Swallowing back nerves, she brushed her shoulder against Xiao’s and wound her fingers into his.

To her utmost delight, he leaned into the contact, his fingers squeezing back gently while his forehead came to rest against hers. The look he gave her…she could only describe it as adoring. Loving.

Someday, she would depart this world and leave him behind. It would break their hearts, but for now, she would embrace these moments.

Eventually, the memories would be all she had left.

[archonofthestars]

Valentine's Day Drabbles, Part One

To celebrate the month of love, I took some requests from friends and family about different types of love between Genshin characters (platonic, romantic, familial, etc.) and put them into 100 word drabbles!! Here's the first batch of them ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊   

♡ Wanderer & Nahida (familial) ♡

Love is not a simple thing for him. The emotional scars from his mother creator don’t fade, even as the centuries pass. He has spent those years perfecting the ability to keep others out, tightly locking the doors around his heart.

But Nahida’s love is like the plants she rules over; it found the tiniest cracks in his doors and slowly pushed in. He fights it with cruel words and a bad attitude; the inevitable loss can’t hurt if he makes her leave him first. 

And yet, she continues to stay, smiling at him in that knowing way of hers.

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊   

♡ Ratio & Aventurine (platonic) ♡

“Gambler,” Ratio stared down at the sea of rubber ducks in his hotel room. “Pray tell, what possessed you to buy out the entire store’s stock of rubber ducks?”

Aventurine grinned at him, holding a rubber duck that looked a lot like the famous Robin. “I happen to know a very particular doctor that likes to have a companion or two during bath-time, so I figured I’d buy a supply for you.”

“I prefer bathing with a singular rubber duck. Not an army’s worth.”

“Well, think of it this way: at least you’ll never run out of options for bath-time.”

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊   

♡ Xiao/Lumine (romantic) ♡

(based on the Liyue Poetry event in 4.1)

While Paimon and the others were distracted at the water’s edge, Lumine seized the moment to step closer. Swallowing back nerves, she brushed her shoulder against Xiao’s and wound her fingers into his.

To her utmost delight, he leaned into the contact, his fingers squeezing back gently while his forehead came to rest against hers. The look he gave her…she could only describe it as adoring. Loving.

Someday, she would depart this world and leave him behind. It would break their hearts, but for now, she would embrace these moments.

Eventually, the memories would be all she had left.

[archonofthestars]

Red, the Color of You

Phainon learns the meaning of the red lines Mydei wears.

Characters: Phainon, Mydei, Algaea (mentioned) Tags: N/A

AN: A gift for the wonderful keroroppi; they requested a Mydei/Phainon moment. I was inspired after reading some Garrus Vakarian/Shepherd fan fiction from Mass Effect. It’s like 99% likely that Mydei’s red designs are tattoos, but I’m playing fast and loose with canon here (aka I do what I want, jazz hands).

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊    

Phainon noticed that Mydei had a specific ritual after combat.

It was a simple one, very unassuming. If Phainon didn’t pay such close attention to Mydei, he would’ve probably missed it entirely.

But after some random battle, the details of which Phainon no longer remembered, he saw that the red lines on Mydei’s shoulders were smeared. Normally, the red lines streaking across his body didn’t change in any way; Phainon could’ve almost sworn they were tattoos. 

Hell, they didn’t even fade or wash off when the two of them entered the Hero’s Bath to wipe off the grime of combat. Whatever Mydei used to paint those on, it was stubborn and very good at its job (just like its owner).

But the next time Phainon saw him, the red lines were back in their full glory, nothing smeared or out of place on the Kremnoan prince.

It intrigued Phainon, and what intrigued him, he pursued relentlessly.

He didn’t get another chance to find out more until weeks later. Another series of attacks on Okhema resulted in him and Mydei going to the battlefield, where waves of titankin attempted to beat down the gates of the holy city. The fight was ultimately nothing too difficult, other than that the titankin never seemed to run out of reinforcements.

The two of them managed to amass a sizable collection of cuts and bruises, including one that ran straight from Mydei’s shoulder and across his chest. It bisected a few of the red lines on him, and where the skin had healed, the red coloring was gone, leaving only pale skin. 

Algaea had needed Phainon elsewhere after the battle, and it wasn’t until a few hours later that Phainon was able to find his way to Mydei’s room. It was almost second nature to find his way there from the amount of times he had gone to visit Mydei (the latter insisted it was less ‘visiting’ and more ‘bothering’, but Phainon politely ignored him).

He knocked quickly on the door, more out of courtesy than anything, and opened it before he got permission. Even if Mydei had told him no, he still would’ve entered. 

Mydei glanced up at him from the floor, looking faintly annoyed but saying nothing as Phainon entered. In one bare hand was a small clay pot, filled with a deep red liquid, while he held a dark brush in the other hand.

“You know, I’ve always wondered what your marks were made of,” Phainon commented, eyeing the pot with curiosity as he joined Mydei on the floor. “You wanna spill the beans on what that paint is?”

Mydei scowled at him, dipping the brush into the liquid and carefully setting the pot down. “Do you truly have nothing better to do right now?” was all he said as he focused his attention on redrawing the line on his shoulder.

“What, I’m not allowed to find out more about my dearest lover?” Phainon asked cheekily, coming to sit down next to him. “Usually, lovers tell each other everything.”

“You’re not my dearest lover,” Mydei said, almost reflexively. The words lacked any real venom. “And because I know you’ll bother me until I answer you, it’s Kremnoan war paint. It’s designed to withstand even the fiercest battles.”

“Is it just meant to look scary?” Phainon grabbed the clay pot, watching the liquid move around. The viscosity reminded him of honey, slow moving and thick. 

“No,” the prince retorted, (carefully) snagging the clay pot from his hands. “It’s meant to symbolize your heritage and family lineage. Only those from the royal family can use this red color.”

The Deliverer stared in surprise; to be honest, he wasn’t expecting that answer. He really had thought it was meant to be a scare tactic against their enemies, but now that Mydei mentioned it, he hadn’t seen any other Kremnoans wearing this vivid red color. And every Kremnoan’s design had been different.

Dipping the tip of his pinky in the paint while Mydei was distracted, he asked, “Why would you need to paint your family lineage on yourself?”

Mydei sighed, clearly tired of all the questions. “If you fall in combat, your symbols will tell others who you were and who to return your body to for burial. No one knows every soldier in an army.”

“That’s kind of morbid, but I guess it makes sense.” Kremnoans tended to do things very differently than the people of Okhema.

For a moment, silence descended on the room and Phainon watched as Mydei continued to fill in the lines on him with even, smooth strokes. It was clear the prince had done this many times in the past. It felt a little like watching an artist painting a masterpiece.

He wondered…

“Can you paint some on me?” The words tumbled out of his mouth without him really thinking about it. The image of him wearing the same red marks at Mydei on his body thrilled him. Something about it felt surprisingly intimate.

The other man looked startled at the request, and it took a moment for Phainon’s brain to catch up. The symbols of the royal family, the red color only they could wear. Phainon had basically asked to write that he was officially part of Mydei’s family all over his body. They may have an arrangement that was something like lovers (if lovers meant avoiding talking about what exactly they were and any feelings they might have) but this was definitely beyond the scope of their current relationship.

Phainon might as well have asked if he could marry Mydei right there before all of Okhema. 

He could feel the heat pool on his cheeks, but decided to wait for Mydei’s response. If the prince got angry, Phainon would apologize and try to calm him down. If he played it off like Phainon had made a bad joke, Phainon could throw out jabs and jokes until the atmosphere went back to normal.

After what felt like the longest moment in Phainon’s life, Mydei slowly nodded. The movement looked uncertain, but the prince began moving closer to him.

“Take your coat and shirt off,” he ordered, dipping the brush into the liquid.

That…was not the response Phainon was expecting. The implications of Mydei going along with this were…he couldn’t even begin to grasp all of it. A little stunned, he awkwardly quipped, “If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked.”

Mydei rolled his eyes so hard, they looked like they could’ve come out of his head. “Unless you want me to paint all over your clothes…” He moved the brush closer, emphasizing his threat. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! No need to ruin my clothes,” Phainon conceded, quickly pulling the articles off and tossing them somewhere in the room. “Algaea would kill me if I ruined another outfit.”

The Kremnoan merely huffed at that. Carefully, he leaned in and Phainon felt the cool touch of liquid trailing on his collarbone. 

The sensation was kind of relaxing, he had to admit. And something about Mydei’s steady hand working across his skin had Phainon closing his eyes to enjoy it. The prince rarely had quiet moments with him. Usually, their time together consisted of sparring, throwing playful jabs at each other, or tangling up in the sheets. Sometimes all three at once, depending on the day.

He hadn’t even realized how much time had passed until Mydei uttered a quiet, “Done,” and the feeling of the brush and ink on his skin disappeared. 

Opening his eyes and glancing down, Phainon took a long moment to admire the curving red lines along his arms and abdomen. The color stood out strongly on his pale skin, really drawing an eye to their designs all along his body.

Phainon made his way over to the mirror in the corner of the room to admire the full picture. And wow, what a picture it made. He hadn’t anticipated how he would feel, seeing Mydei’s familiar symbols painted on him. It made him feel…

It made him feel like he really did belong to Mydei, their undefined relationship be damned. And something in his traitorous little heart just melted at the idea of that.

If any Kremnoan saw him right now, Phainon could only imagine their reaction to the Deliverer of Okhema basically wearing, “I am officially part of Crown Prince Mydeimos’ family,” all over himself.

The man himself was quietly watching Phainon, the line of his shoulders slightly tense as he waited for Phainon’s response to his work. 

Turning around, a grin crept onto Phainon’s face. “I think it suits me, wearing your colors. Don’t you?” And, ever the one to be obnoxious, he held his arms out and gave a quick spin, like he was a young girl showing off a beautiful new dress.

“Don’t go fishing for compliments, Deliverer,” Mydei retorted, but he sounded more amused than anything. He stashed his tools in a cabinet near his bed before reaching to put his gauntlets and armor back on.

“Besides,” he continued, smirking over at Phainon. “You’ll be stuck with that for weeks now. Good luck explaining that to the others because I won’t.”

[archonofthestars]

I'M SO GLAD YOU LOVE IT 😭💖😭💖

Red, the Color of You

Phainon learns the meaning of the red lines Mydei wears.

Characters: Phainon, Mydei, Algaea (mentioned) Tags: N/A

AN: A gift for the wonderful keroroppi; they requested a Mydei/Phainon moment. I was inspired after reading some Garrus Vakarian/Shepherd fan fiction from Mass Effect. It’s like 99% likely that Mydei’s red designs are tattoos, but I’m playing fast and loose with canon here (aka I do what I want, jazz hands).

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊    

Phainon noticed that Mydei had a specific ritual after combat.

It was a simple one, very unassuming. If Phainon didn’t pay such close attention to Mydei, he would’ve probably missed it entirely.

But after some random battle, the details of which Phainon no longer remembered, he saw that the red lines on Mydei’s shoulders were smeared. Normally, the red lines streaking across his body didn’t change in any way; Phainon could’ve almost sworn they were tattoos. 

Hell, they didn’t even fade or wash off when the two of them entered the Hero’s Bath to wipe off the grime of combat. Whatever Mydei used to paint those on, it was stubborn and very good at its job (just like its owner).

But the next time Phainon saw him, the red lines were back in their full glory, nothing smeared or out of place on the Kremnoan prince.

It intrigued Phainon, and what intrigued him, he pursued relentlessly.

He didn’t get another chance to find out more until weeks later. Another series of attacks on Okhema resulted in him and Mydei going to the battlefield, where waves of titankin attempted to beat down the gates of the holy city. The fight was ultimately nothing too difficult, other than that the titankin never seemed to run out of reinforcements.

The two of them managed to amass a sizable collection of cuts and bruises, including one that ran straight from Mydei’s shoulder and across his chest. It bisected a few of the red lines on him, and where the skin had healed, the red coloring was gone, leaving only pale skin. 

Algaea had needed Phainon elsewhere after the battle, and it wasn’t until a few hours later that Phainon was able to find his way to Mydei’s room. It was almost second nature to find his way there from the amount of times he had gone to visit Mydei (the latter insisted it was less ‘visiting’ and more ‘bothering’, but Phainon politely ignored him).

He knocked quickly on the door, more out of courtesy than anything, and opened it before he got permission. Even if Mydei had told him no, he still would’ve entered. 

Mydei glanced up at him from the floor, looking faintly annoyed but saying nothing as Phainon entered. In one bare hand was a small clay pot, filled with a deep red liquid, while he held a dark brush in the other hand.

“You know, I’ve always wondered what your marks were made of,” Phainon commented, eyeing the pot with curiosity as he joined Mydei on the floor. “You wanna spill the beans on what that paint is?”

Mydei scowled at him, dipping the brush into the liquid and carefully setting the pot down. “Do you truly have nothing better to do right now?” was all he said as he focused his attention on redrawing the line on his shoulder.

“What, I’m not allowed to find out more about my dearest lover?” Phainon asked cheekily, coming to sit down next to him. “Usually, lovers tell each other everything.”

“You’re not my dearest lover,” Mydei said, almost reflexively. The words lacked any real venom. “And because I know you’ll bother me until I answer you, it’s Kremnoan war paint. It’s designed to withstand even the fiercest battles.”

“Is it just meant to look scary?” Phainon grabbed the clay pot, watching the liquid move around. The viscosity reminded him of honey, slow moving and thick. 

“No,” the prince retorted, (carefully) snagging the clay pot from his hands. “It’s meant to symbolize your heritage and family lineage. Only those from the royal family can use this red color.”

The Deliverer stared in surprise; to be honest, he wasn’t expecting that answer. He really had thought it was meant to be a scare tactic against their enemies, but now that Mydei mentioned it, he hadn’t seen any other Kremnoans wearing this vivid red color. And every Kremnoan’s design had been different.

Dipping the tip of his pinky in the paint while Mydei was distracted, he asked, “Why would you need to paint your family lineage on yourself?”

Mydei sighed, clearly tired of all the questions. “If you fall in combat, your symbols will tell others who you were and who to return your body to for burial. No one knows every soldier in an army.”

“That’s kind of morbid, but I guess it makes sense.” Kremnoans tended to do things very differently than the people of Okhema.

For a moment, silence descended on the room and Phainon watched as Mydei continued to fill in the lines on him with even, smooth strokes. It was clear the prince had done this many times in the past. It felt a little like watching an artist painting a masterpiece.

He wondered…

“Can you paint some on me?” The words tumbled out of his mouth without him really thinking about it. The image of him wearing the same red marks at Mydei on his body thrilled him. Something about it felt surprisingly intimate.

The other man looked startled at the request, and it took a moment for Phainon’s brain to catch up. The symbols of the royal family, the red color only they could wear. Phainon had basically asked to write that he was officially part of Mydei’s family all over his body. They may have an arrangement that was something like lovers (if lovers meant avoiding talking about what exactly they were and any feelings they might have) but this was definitely beyond the scope of their current relationship.

Phainon might as well have asked if he could marry Mydei right there before all of Okhema. 

He could feel the heat pool on his cheeks, but decided to wait for Mydei’s response. If the prince got angry, Phainon would apologize and try to calm him down. If he played it off like Phainon had made a bad joke, Phainon could throw out jabs and jokes until the atmosphere went back to normal.

After what felt like the longest moment in Phainon’s life, Mydei slowly nodded. The movement looked uncertain, but the prince began moving closer to him.

“Take your coat and shirt off,” he ordered, dipping the brush into the liquid.

That…was not the response Phainon was expecting. The implications of Mydei going along with this were…he couldn’t even begin to grasp all of it. A little stunned, he awkwardly quipped, “If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked.”

Mydei rolled his eyes so hard, they looked like they could’ve come out of his head. “Unless you want me to paint all over your clothes…” He moved the brush closer, emphasizing his threat. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! No need to ruin my clothes,” Phainon conceded, quickly pulling the articles off and tossing them somewhere in the room. “Algaea would kill me if I ruined another outfit.”

The Kremnoan merely huffed at that. Carefully, he leaned in and Phainon felt the cool touch of liquid trailing on his collarbone. 

The sensation was kind of relaxing, he had to admit. And something about Mydei’s steady hand working across his skin had Phainon closing his eyes to enjoy it. The prince rarely had quiet moments with him. Usually, their time together consisted of sparring, throwing playful jabs at each other, or tangling up in the sheets. Sometimes all three at once, depending on the day.

He hadn’t even realized how much time had passed until Mydei uttered a quiet, “Done,” and the feeling of the brush and ink on his skin disappeared. 

Opening his eyes and glancing down, Phainon took a long moment to admire the curving red lines along his arms and abdomen. The color stood out strongly on his pale skin, really drawing an eye to their designs all along his body.

Phainon made his way over to the mirror in the corner of the room to admire the full picture. And wow, what a picture it made. He hadn’t anticipated how he would feel, seeing Mydei’s familiar symbols painted on him. It made him feel…

It made him feel like he really did belong to Mydei, their undefined relationship be damned. And something in his traitorous little heart just melted at the idea of that.

If any Kremnoan saw him right now, Phainon could only imagine their reaction to the Deliverer of Okhema basically wearing, “I am officially part of Crown Prince Mydeimos’ family,” all over himself.

The man himself was quietly watching Phainon, the line of his shoulders slightly tense as he waited for Phainon’s response to his work. 

Turning around, a grin crept onto Phainon’s face. “I think it suits me, wearing your colors. Don’t you?” And, ever the one to be obnoxious, he held his arms out and gave a quick spin, like he was a young girl showing off a beautiful new dress.

“Don’t go fishing for compliments, Deliverer,” Mydei retorted, but he sounded more amused than anything. He stashed his tools in a cabinet near his bed before reaching to put his gauntlets and armor back on.

“Besides,” he continued, smirking over at Phainon. “You’ll be stuck with that for weeks now. Good luck explaining that to the others because I won’t.”

[archonofthestars]

Red, the Color of You

Phainon learns the meaning of the red lines Mydei wears.

Characters: Phainon, Mydei, Algaea (mentioned) Tags: N/A

AN: A gift for the wonderful keroroppi; they requested a Mydei/Phainon moment. I was inspired after reading some Garrus Vakarian/Shepherd fan fiction from Mass Effect. It’s like 99% likely that Mydei’s red designs are tattoos, but I’m playing fast and loose with canon here (aka I do what I want, jazz hands).

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊    

Phainon noticed that Mydei had a specific ritual after combat.

It was a simple one, very unassuming. If Phainon didn’t pay such close attention to Mydei, he would’ve probably missed it entirely.

But after some random battle, the details of which Phainon no longer remembered, he saw that the red lines on Mydei’s shoulders were smeared. Normally, the red lines streaking across his body didn’t change in any way; Phainon could’ve almost sworn they were tattoos. 

Hell, they didn’t even fade or wash off when the two of them entered the Hero’s Bath to wipe off the grime of combat. Whatever Mydei used to paint those on, it was stubborn and very good at its job (just like its owner).

But the next time Phainon saw him, the red lines were back in their full glory, nothing smeared or out of place on the Kremnoan prince.

It intrigued Phainon, and what intrigued him, he pursued relentlessly.

He didn’t get another chance to find out more until weeks later. Another series of attacks on Okhema resulted in him and Mydei going to the battlefield, where waves of titankin attempted to beat down the gates of the holy city. The fight was ultimately nothing too difficult, other than that the titankin never seemed to run out of reinforcements.

The two of them managed to amass a sizable collection of cuts and bruises, including one that ran straight from Mydei’s shoulder and across his chest. It bisected a few of the red lines on him, and where the skin had healed, the red coloring was gone, leaving only pale skin. 

Algaea had needed Phainon elsewhere after the battle, and it wasn’t until a few hours later that Phainon was able to find his way to Mydei’s room. It was almost second nature to find his way there from the amount of times he had gone to visit Mydei (the latter insisted it was less ‘visiting’ and more ‘bothering’, but Phainon politely ignored him).

He knocked quickly on the door, more out of courtesy than anything, and opened it before he got permission. Even if Mydei had told him no, he still would’ve entered. 

Mydei glanced up at him from the floor, looking faintly annoyed but saying nothing as Phainon entered. In one bare hand was a small clay pot, filled with a deep red liquid, while he held a dark brush in the other hand.

“You know, I’ve always wondered what your marks were made of,” Phainon commented, eyeing the pot with curiosity as he joined Mydei on the floor. “You wanna spill the beans on what that paint is?”

Mydei scowled at him, dipping the brush into the liquid and carefully setting the pot down. “Do you truly have nothing better to do right now?” was all he said as he focused his attention on redrawing the line on his shoulder.

“What, I’m not allowed to find out more about my dearest lover?” Phainon asked cheekily, coming to sit down next to him. “Usually, lovers tell each other everything.”

“You’re not my dearest lover,” Mydei said, almost reflexively. The words lacked any real venom. “And because I know you’ll bother me until I answer you, it’s Kremnoan war paint. It’s designed to withstand even the fiercest battles.”

“Is it just meant to look scary?” Phainon grabbed the clay pot, watching the liquid move around. The viscosity reminded him of honey, slow moving and thick. 

“No,” the prince retorted, (carefully) snagging the clay pot from his hands. “It’s meant to symbolize your heritage and family lineage. Only those from the royal family can use this red color.”

The Deliverer stared in surprise; to be honest, he wasn’t expecting that answer. He really had thought it was meant to be a scare tactic against their enemies, but now that Mydei mentioned it, he hadn’t seen any other Kremnoans wearing this vivid red color. And every Kremnoan’s design had been different.

Dipping the tip of his pinky in the paint while Mydei was distracted, he asked, “Why would you need to paint your family lineage on yourself?”

Mydei sighed, clearly tired of all the questions. “If you fall in combat, your symbols will tell others who you were and who to return your body to for burial. No one knows every soldier in an army.”

“That’s kind of morbid, but I guess it makes sense.” Kremnoans tended to do things very differently than the people of Okhema.

For a moment, silence descended on the room and Phainon watched as Mydei continued to fill in the lines on him with even, smooth strokes. It was clear the prince had done this many times in the past. It felt a little like watching an artist painting a masterpiece.

He wondered…

“Can you paint some on me?” The words tumbled out of his mouth without him really thinking about it. The image of him wearing the same red marks at Mydei on his body thrilled him. Something about it felt surprisingly intimate.

The other man looked startled at the request, and it took a moment for Phainon’s brain to catch up. The symbols of the royal family, the red color only they could wear. Phainon had basically asked to write that he was officially part of Mydei’s family all over his body. They may have an arrangement that was something like lovers (if lovers meant avoiding talking about what exactly they were and any feelings they might have) but this was definitely beyond the scope of their current relationship.

Phainon might as well have asked if he could marry Mydei right there before all of Okhema. 

He could feel the heat pool on his cheeks, but decided to wait for Mydei’s response. If the prince got angry, Phainon would apologize and try to calm him down. If he played it off like Phainon had made a bad joke, Phainon could throw out jabs and jokes until the atmosphere went back to normal.

After what felt like the longest moment in Phainon’s life, Mydei slowly nodded. The movement looked uncertain, but the prince began moving closer to him.

“Take your coat and shirt off,” he ordered, dipping the brush into the liquid.

That…was not the response Phainon was expecting. The implications of Mydei going along with this were…he couldn’t even begin to grasp all of it. A little stunned, he awkwardly quipped, “If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked.”

Mydei rolled his eyes so hard, they looked like they could’ve come out of his head. “Unless you want me to paint all over your clothes…” He moved the brush closer, emphasizing his threat. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! No need to ruin my clothes,” Phainon conceded, quickly pulling the articles off and tossing them somewhere in the room. “Algaea would kill me if I ruined another outfit.”

The Kremnoan merely huffed at that. Carefully, he leaned in and Phainon felt the cool touch of liquid trailing on his collarbone. 

The sensation was kind of relaxing, he had to admit. And something about Mydei’s steady hand working across his skin had Phainon closing his eyes to enjoy it. The prince rarely had quiet moments with him. Usually, their time together consisted of sparring, throwing playful jabs at each other, or tangling up in the sheets. Sometimes all three at once, depending on the day.

He hadn’t even realized how much time had passed until Mydei uttered a quiet, “Done,” and the feeling of the brush and ink on his skin disappeared. 

Opening his eyes and glancing down, Phainon took a long moment to admire the curving red lines along his arms and abdomen. The color stood out strongly on his pale skin, really drawing an eye to their designs all along his body.

Phainon made his way over to the mirror in the corner of the room to admire the full picture. And wow, what a picture it made. He hadn’t anticipated how he would feel, seeing Mydei’s familiar symbols painted on him. It made him feel…

It made him feel like he really did belong to Mydei, their undefined relationship be damned. And something in his traitorous little heart just melted at the idea of that.

If any Kremnoan saw him right now, Phainon could only imagine their reaction to the Deliverer of Okhema basically wearing, “I am officially part of Crown Prince Mydeimos’ family,” all over himself.

The man himself was quietly watching Phainon, the line of his shoulders slightly tense as he waited for Phainon’s response to his work. 

Turning around, a grin crept onto Phainon’s face. “I think it suits me, wearing your colors. Don’t you?” And, ever the one to be obnoxious, he held his arms out and gave a quick spin, like he was a young girl showing off a beautiful new dress.

“Don’t go fishing for compliments, Deliverer,” Mydei retorted, but he sounded more amused than anything. He stashed his tools in a cabinet near his bed before reaching to put his gauntlets and armor back on.

“Besides,” he continued, smirking over at Phainon. “You’ll be stuck with that for weeks now. Good luck explaining that to the others because I won’t.”

[archonofthestars]

Quiet

In the quiet moments between missions, you help Boothill take care of himself and feel a little more human.

Characters: Boothill, Reader Insert (gender neutral) Tags: Boothill being soft and vulnerable, your relationship to him can be whatever you'd like to be (not specified)

A/N: My first HSR ficlet! And my first reader insert ficlet (on this blog, not in general). It's good to get back to my roots; the last time I really wrote reader insert was back in MCU's heydays.

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊    

It’s a rare moment that Boothill allows himself to be quiet and still. It’s even rarer that he does so around another person.

The fact that you’re allowed to witness this is a testament to the years that you’ve worked together and the numerous times you’ve helped him, whether it’s tending to damage to his mechanical body or patching up injuries on the remaining human parts of him. Occasionally, you’ve also helped bail him out when he manages to get himself into trouble he can’t blast his way out of.

Normally, the cyborg greets your assistance with that devil-may-care grin and a "mighty fine thanks there, pardner," complete with a tip of his hat. But, sometimes, you’re instead given a weary smile and a soft apology when you constantly bemoan how he gets into trouble.

That’s how you know something’s different. And in these moments, you always do your best to respect the quiet and be a comforting presence to the loner Galaxy Ranger.

Right now, you currently have the quiet Boothill in front of you. Both of you are kneeling on the floor of a humble, one-bedroom safe house, somewhere in the cosmos. Dull gray metal patches cover Boothill’s arms, back and chest; they’re emergency patch ups to cover significant damage to his cyborg body. Dust, soot, and blood streak his human face and hair.

Carefully, you thread your fingers through the long mane of black-and-white hair. As you work your way down, knots bundle up against your knuckles, but you carefully take the time to detangle them. Even when the knots accidentally pull on his scalp, Boothill doesn’t say anything. He just tilts his head slightly as you murmur apologies, eyes closed in the dim light of the room.

It takes a considerable amount of time with how long his hair is, but once it’s detangled, you pull over a nearby wash bin of warm water and gently coax his head back into the water. The gears and pistons of his body whirr quietly as he follows your guidance. 

You lather your hands with shampoo and run them into his hair, working through the grime. Months of travel, fighting, living rough and Aeons-know-what-else dissolve into the water, turning it a dirty gray-brown color. You can literally feel his hair getting lighter and softer as the water gets darker.

After you feel like all the dirt is finally out of his hair, you grab a pitcher of clean, warm water and pour it down the length of his hair to coax the rest of shampoo and filth into the wash bin. Grabbing the conditioner, you again thread your fingers through his mane until it's shiny and smooth. One more pitcher of clean water rinses the conditioner out, leaving the Galaxy Ranger’s hair clean once more.

A well-worn brush replaces your fingers and you work carefully, starting from the bottom, teasing out any remaining snarls until you get all the way to his scalp. The end result leaves the black-and-white hair clean and soft for the first time in months.

As a final touch to your efforts, you section his hair off into three parts and begin loosely braiding it. One of your hair ties secures the end before you grab a cloth and begin wiping the dirt and blood from his face, coming to kneel in front of him.

It’s only then that his eyes open to look at you, simply watching you as you work. Once you’re done, you set the cloth down near the wash bin and sit next to him, content to enjoy the silence for as long as he needs.

“...thank you, darlin’,” he whispers after a moment. You smile and rest your shoulder against his.

“Always, cowboy.”

[archonofthestars]

Quiet

In the quiet moments between missions, you help Boothill take care of himself and feel a little more human.

Characters: Boothill, Reader Insert (gender neutral) Tags: Boothill being soft and vulnerable, your relationship to him can be whatever you'd like to be (not specified)

A/N: My first HSR ficlet! And my first reader insert ficlet (on this blog, not in general). It's good to get back to my roots; the last time I really wrote reader insert was back in MCU's heydays.

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊    

It’s a rare moment that Boothill allows himself to be quiet and still. It’s even rarer that he does so around another person.

The fact that you’re allowed to witness this is a testament to the years that you’ve worked together and the numerous times you’ve helped him, whether it’s tending to damage to his mechanical body or patching up injuries on the remaining human parts of him. Occasionally, you’ve also helped bail him out when he manages to get himself into trouble he can’t blast his way out of.

Normally, the cyborg greets your assistance with that devil-may-care grin and a "mighty fine thanks there, pardner," complete with a tip of his hat. But, sometimes, you’re instead given a weary smile and a soft apology when you constantly bemoan how he gets into trouble.

That’s how you know something’s different. And in these moments, you always do your best to respect the quiet and be a comforting presence to the loner Galaxy Ranger.

Right now, you currently have the quiet Boothill in front of you. Both of you are kneeling on the floor of a humble, one-bedroom safe house, somewhere in the cosmos. Dull gray metal patches cover Boothill’s arms, back and chest; they’re emergency patch ups to cover significant damage to his cyborg body. Dust, soot, and blood streak his human face and hair.

Carefully, you thread your fingers through the long mane of black-and-white hair. As you work your way down, knots bundle up against your knuckles, but you carefully take the time to detangle them. Even when the knots accidentally pull on his scalp, Boothill doesn’t say anything. He just tilts his head slightly as you murmur apologies, eyes closed in the dim light of the room.

It takes a considerable amount of time with how long his hair is, but once it’s detangled, you pull over a nearby wash bin of warm water and gently coax his head back into the water. The gears and pistons of his body whirr quietly as he follows your guidance. 

You lather your hands with shampoo and run them into his hair, working through the grime. Months of travel, fighting, living rough and Aeons-know-what-else dissolve into the water, turning it a dirty gray-brown color. You can literally feel his hair getting lighter and softer as the water gets darker.

After you feel like all the dirt is finally out of his hair, you grab a pitcher of clean, warm water and pour it down the length of his hair to coax the rest of shampoo and filth into the wash bin. Grabbing the conditioner, you again thread your fingers through his mane until it's shiny and smooth. One more pitcher of clean water rinses the conditioner out, leaving the Galaxy Ranger’s hair clean once more.

A well-worn brush replaces your fingers and you work carefully, starting from the bottom, teasing out any remaining snarls until you get all the way to his scalp. The end result leaves the black-and-white hair clean and soft for the first time in months.

As a final touch to your efforts, you section his hair off into three parts and begin loosely braiding it. One of your hair ties secures the end before you grab a cloth and begin wiping the dirt and blood from his face, coming to kneel in front of him.

It’s only then that his eyes open to look at you, simply watching you as you work. Once you’re done, you set the cloth down near the wash bin and sit next to him, content to enjoy the silence for as long as he needs.

“...thank you, darlin’,” he whispers after a moment. You smile and rest your shoulder against his.

“Always, cowboy.”

[archonofthestars]

Last Chance

Mualani seizes her chance in the face of the Abyss' final assault on Natlan. A Pixelshark/Kinilani ficlet set during the events of 5.3 🦈🐉

Characters: Mualani, Kinich, Traveler (gender netural), Paimon, random background characters Tags: 5.3 typical Abyss campaign violence/death, possibility of death but no one actually dies in this ficlet

A/N: Listen, it's February and Pixelshark has me in a death grip along with Mavuitano. I am a slave to the muse and had to share this. Also playing a little bit fast and loose with the timeline/people's locations for this fic compared to 5.3 canon; don't look too hard.

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊    

The sudden appearance of the Abyssal portal in the sky immediately made the fine hairs on the back of Mualani’s neck stand up.

Despite the portal being miles up in the sky, she could easily feel the malevolent energy pouring out of the tear in the sky. It felt like sleepless nights, eternal cold sinking down into her bones, an endless exhaustion that she could never escape. 

How can we fight back against this—we don’t have enough manpower—everyone is going to DIE—

Distantly, a logical part of her, the part that served as a veteran in many a Night War, recognized her thoughts beginning to spiral as Abyssal miasma filled the air. She fought to get her thoughts under control; this was the Abyss, trying to get her to freeze and accept her fate without a fight.

Any hesitation on her part meant that more of her people would die.

We will survive, we will get through this, and we’ll throw the biggest party ever to celebrate being free of the Abyss, she reminded herself fiercely. She forced herself to hold on to those good thoughts, to keep the Abyssal influence at bay.

“Mualani,” Koa, one of her tribespeople, called out to her. She forced her attention away from the massive Abyssal portal and him. “We need to get back to the Springs; new Abyssal portals have appeared, and the current forces there can’t hold out much longer.”

“We need to head out too,” Paimon spoke up nearby. The white fairy floated over to her, the Traveler not far behind. Both of their faces showed grim determination. “The Fatui forces near the Children of Echoes need reinforcements.” “And I need to deliver more information near the Masters of the Night-Wind,” Kinich added as he approached; Ajaw was currently nowhere to be seen (most likely banished after his little rant about everyone dying to the Abyss, Mualani supposed). 

“Stay safe,” the Traveler told the assembled group, their golden eyes fierce and bright amidst the strange Abyssal night. “We won’t fall today. Remember what you’re fighting for.”

Their words seemed to bolster the other Natlan warriors; Mualani could see a few who were still trying to shake off the mental effect of the Abyssal portal.

As Koa began dividing up their forces to assist the People of the Springs behind her, Mualani couldn’t help but stop and take a long look at Kinich as he prepared to head out. His exhaustion was clear, as much as hers and everyone else's, but the steely glint in his eye showed she would fight to the death if necessary.

The icy fist of fear seized her heart at that moment. Every Natlan warrior knew nothing was promised in battle; death did not discriminate in these moments. She almost felt sick from the realization that this could be the last time she ever saw Kinich.

Seized by burning determination, Mualani broke from her group and ran towards Kinich. If this was the last time she could see him and their nation burned to the ground, she would not let some things go unsaid.

“Kinich, wait!” 

The man in question turned to her, looking surprised. “Mualani?”

She didn’t have time to hesitate or think about what she was doing; she was using up valuable time she needed to get to her people. “This is the worst timing I could’ve picked in the entire world, I know, but—” She took a deep breath. “Stay safe and stay alive.”

Kinich frowned and she could see him getting ready to chastise her about how they needed to all get going right now, but she didn’t let him. Reaching out as quickly as she could, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pressed her lips to his.

If this was the proper sort of love confession that wasn’t made in the heat of battle and with the threat of death, there would be an abundance of time to reflect on what her first kiss with Kinich felt like. How her cheeks burned with emotion, the feeling of his lips on hers, the warmth of his skin under her hands…all the things she had thought about when she considered kissing her long-time crush.

But this was not the time; all she could feel under the thundering of her heart and the adrenaline flowing in her veins was Kinich, ramrod stiff and shocked. The kiss couldn’t have lasted more than a second before she made herself break it off, her hands falling away from Kinich. 

She was out of time, and her people needed her.

Stepping back, she may have laughed at Kinich’s dumbstruck face until her sides hurt if they weren’t in the biggest fight for their lives. She had never seen him like this; he looked like she had taken his claymore and slammed him upside the head. 

“Mualani, we need to go!” Ikaika, another one of her tribespeople, shouted at her. Mualani forced herself to turn away from Kinich and start running back towards her team. Her Sharky surfboard thrummed to life under her fingers when she heard her name again, this time from Kinich.

Turning back, she saw that fierce determination back in his eyes, now focused on her.

“Stay alive,” he told her. “So I can give you my answer.”

Despite the chaos, despite the noise and the awful presence of the Abyss and overwhelming death on all sides, Mualani smiled.

“See you on the other side.”

[archonofthestars]

Last Chance

Mualani seizes her chance in the face of the Abyss' final assault on Natlan. A Pixelshark/Kinilani ficlet set during the events of 5.3 🦈🐉

Characters: Mualani, Kinich, Traveler (gender netural), Paimon, random background characters Tags: 5.3 typical Abyss campaign violence/death, possibility of death but no one actually dies in this ficlet

A/N: Listen, it's February and Pixelshark has me in a death grip along with Mavuitano. I am a slave to the muse and had to share this. Also playing a little bit fast and loose with the timeline/people's locations for this fic compared to 5.3 canon; don't look too hard.

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊    

The sudden appearance of the Abyssal portal in the sky immediately made the fine hairs on the back of Mualani’s neck stand up.

Despite the portal being miles up in the sky, she could easily feel the malevolent energy pouring out of the tear in the sky. It felt like sleepless nights, eternal cold sinking down into her bones, an endless exhaustion that she could never escape. 

How can we fight back against this—we don’t have enough manpower—everyone is going to DIE—

Distantly, a logical part of her, the part that served as a veteran in many a Night War, recognized her thoughts beginning to spiral as Abyssal miasma filled the air. She fought to get her thoughts under control; this was the Abyss, trying to get her to freeze and accept her fate without a fight.

Any hesitation on her part meant that more of her people would die.

We will survive, we will get through this, and we’ll throw the biggest party ever to celebrate being free of the Abyss, she reminded herself fiercely. She forced herself to hold on to those good thoughts, to keep the Abyssal influence at bay.

“Mualani,” Koa, one of her tribespeople, called out to her. She forced her attention away from the massive Abyssal portal and him. “We need to get back to the Springs; new Abyssal portals have appeared, and the current forces there can’t hold out much longer.”

“Stay safe,” the Traveler told the assembled group, their golden eyes fierce and bright amidst the strange Abyssal night. “We won’t fall today. Remember what you’re fighting for.”

“We need to head out too,” Paimon spoke up nearby. The white fairy floated over to her, the Traveler not far behind. Both of their faces showed grim determination. “The Fatui forces near the Children of Echoes need reinforcements.”

“And I need to deliver more information near the Masters of the Night-Wind,” Kinich added as he approached; Ajaw was currently nowhere to be seen (most likely banished after his little rant about everyone dying to the Abyss, Mualani supposed). 

Their words seemed to bolster the other Natlan warriors; Mualani could see a few who were still trying to shake off the mental effect of the Abyssal portal.

As Koa began dividing up their forces to assist the People of the Springs behind her, Mualani couldn’t help but stop and take a long look at Kinich as he prepared to head out. His exhaustion was clear, as much as hers and everyone else's, but the steely glint in his eye showed she would fight to the death if necessary.

The icy fist of fear seized her heart at that moment. Every Natlan warrior knew nothing was promised in battle; death did not discriminate in these moments. She almost felt sick from the realization that this could be the last time she ever saw Kinich.

Seized by burning determination, Mualani broke from her group and ran towards Kinich. If this was the last time she could see him and their nation burned to the ground, she would not let some things go unsaid.

“Kinich, wait!” 

The man in question turned to her, looking surprised. “Mualani?”

She didn’t have time to hesitate or think about what she was doing; she was using up valuable time she needed to get to her people. “This is the worst timing I could’ve picked in the entire world, I know, but—” She took a deep breath. “Stay safe and stay alive.”

Kinich frowned and she could see him getting ready to chastise her about how they needed to all get going right now, but she didn’t let him. Reaching out as quickly as she could, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pressed her lips to his.

If this was the proper sort of love confession that wasn’t made in the heat of battle and with the threat of death, there would be an abundance of time to reflect on what her first kiss with Kinich felt like. How her cheeks burned with emotion, the feeling of his lips on hers, the warmth of his skin under her hands…all the things she had thought about when she considered kissing her long-time crush.

But this was not the time; all she could feel under the thundering of her heart and the adrenaline flowing in her veins was Kinich, ramrod stiff and shocked. The kiss couldn’t have lasted more than a second before she made herself break it off, her hands falling away from Kinich. 

She was out of time, and her people needed her.

Stepping back, she may have laughed at Kinich’s dumbstruck face until her sides hurt if they weren’t in the biggest fight for their lives. She had never seen him like this; he looked like she had taken his claymore and slammed him upside the head. 

“Mualani, we need to go!” Ikaika, another one of her tribespeople, shouted at her. Mualani forced herself to turn away from Kinich and start running back towards her team. Her Sharky Surfboard thrummed to life under her fingers when she heard her name again, this time from Kinich.

Turning back, she saw that fierce determination back in his eyes, now focused on her.

“Stay alive,” he told her. “So I can give you my answer.”

Despite the chaos, despite the noise and the awful presence of the Abyss and overwhelming death on all sides, Mualani smiled.

“See you on the other side.”

[archonofthestars]

what in the Yearning is this