sansaurora9904

[sansaurora9904]

𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒊 𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒔

𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 :: ( general scenarios ) "How do the main assassins work around the fact that (S/o) practices the language of flowers?"

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 :: ( assassin's creed ) Altaïr, Ezio, Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor, Edward, Arno, Jacob, Evie, m!Eivor; gender neutral reader

𝐁𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐄 :: none; unless you're afraid of flora(..?)

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 :: For one this had MANY rewrites because I wanted to keep it short enough while still covering all the main points(?). Also, there are SO many meanings to flowers out there — but for the sake of fiction we're only going to include the romantic aspects that I got arharharh enjoy

ALTAÏR

There was some initial.. indifference, towards flowers in general as they weren't much of importance in his line of work— that is unless someone manages to conjure a flower species directly related to Pieces of Eden. But regardless, if he was to do something with flowers, it would be rather difficult to grow them up in sweet old Masyaf unless they're specifically adapted to grow in harsh, mountainous climates.

And yet somehow (S/o) still managed to integrate the special tongue into the two’s relationship, having to endure Altaïr’s initial confusion at the bouquets and dried flowers they had along, and then his reasoning on why he doesn't see the need behind using them. BUT he eventually got the gist that this wasn't about practicality. Just affection.

After having skimmed through all kinds of meanings behind flowers the both of them could get hands on, next to his trial and error on understanding the language (and his instances of messaging an insult at you on accident), it had become this almost regular exchange of Damascus Jasmines: a sign of love, with an additional statement of how they feel home with each other.

EZIO

It's no surprise that he would know that there is meaning behind flowers — look how roses came to be the symbols of love and Aphrodite! And for years he has gifted them to women as a show of his interest and a way to woo them into an interaction with him. That also applied to meeting his now beloved. So it wasn't difficult for (S/o) to introduce more flowers; more different ways to arrange them; the vast range of meanings each of the flowers carry and how they can vary from place to place—

Getting back to roses, as classic as they are, he didn't want to exchange any with (S/o) the more committed their relationship became. He has seen the potential other flowers carry and what definition his beloved had given to a bouquet of varying flowers as means of conveying a message. Roses can be defined as love and passion by the flower language, but everybody knows that. In a way, they are too generic for him to show what (S/o) means to him. He's dissatisfied. He wants to do something different, especially per the encouragement of (S/o) to experiment.

So he sticks to sending sunflowers: as easy as they are to cultivate in Italy, they mean happiness, longevity, and loyalty, always arriving into the hands of his love as yellow and orange as the radiance of the burning Sun.

RATONHNHAKÉ:TON

He had once put in the work to get flowers so a friend had some for his courting, but to be frank he hadn't used the flowers in any decorative way after that; mostly making use of them as herbal medicine or spice or flower-based tea. So when (S/o) introduced flower arrangement and meanings behind flowers, he wasn't shy to point out how they also benefit them both in their endeavors.

Although it was pretty evident his beloved struggled with self-satisfaction in terms of how the flowers are: they were pretty used to working with much more colorful and unique flowers, but it felt like Colonial America has it all too bland. It wasn't like they could just get more vibrant flowers from Europe either, especially with how pricey it was to deliver them and how long it took to arrive!

So he resorted to finding what local flora North America has which (S/o) has pointed out: Black-Eyed Susans; Honeysuckles; Vervains, and else. The ones he doesn't recognize make him wonder just what meaning they have, and what are their names (a rare occurrence)

But in terms of what flowers he'd present, he had traveled West to acquire seeds in an attempt to grow Columbines in the Homestead, particularly to gift them in compositions of three: an arrangement having come to mean faith, hope, and love.

EDWARD

Now as much as he has gifted flowers to people dear to him— like his daughter and so— one cannot deny he does NOT give much of a fuck about flowers unless they are mighty expensive to grow, let alone to get hands on. Because, you know.. pai-ruh-see 🏴‍☠️

So it wasn't a surprise when he looked at (S/o) funny when they were picky about their (albeit limited) flower choice when they once traded in Nassau. And as much as he was hearing out their reasoning, he briefly had a headache trying to wrap his head around all this new information on what can this flora stand for and what message can that flower convey. He usually just went for what looks pretty and his person of choice might like and that's it.

Although a question did arise that could aquatic plants have any kind of meanings applied to them — so at times he comes across water streams and picks up a Calla Lily or a Lotus to hand (S/o) when he sees them – and from there he’d get a yet another headache that colors of the petals are a factor in definition as well.

He’d take note how land flowers are incredibly vibrant as well, at least in the islands of the Caribbean he traverses in; ranging from the pink Hibiscuses to Barbados Lilies. His first choice, though, out of all of them is to gift his beloved yellow bells – a shrub flower, yes, but their trumpet-like blossoms symbolize joy, new beginnings, and promises of happiness: something that he strives to achieve for the both of them.

ARNO

He is pretty aware that flowers have an importance in courting people; also that roses are very often used in that process: I mean, what kind of a City of Romance would Paris be if roses weren’t a commonplace?

Although when it came to his (S/o), flowers weren’t at first only a subject of courting: with their vast knowledge on flowers in the first place, Arno also made some use of it within his salon. Certain flowers had come to resemble the fleeting seasons, and also an incoming holiday if there was one: French Daisies had decorated the tables of Café Théâtre at the start of spring to resemble this new season; Daffodils are always set out around St. Patrick’s Day to symbolize good luck; and Panicle Hydrangeas are placed in celebration of autumn. And hey they also had come to be useful in the kitchen, as the herbs (S/o) provided added to the dishes and also included new items into the menu, now having flower-based teas and all, like lavender and chamomile.

What he does with their flower language can entirely vary from the events that he went through. If we only look at before tragedy, he could put much work into what flower bouquets he’d gift to (S/o), and he’d have no problem with making them either as subtle or grand as he wanted them to be. Next to the obvious choice of roses, there were times he’d gift his lover daisies, the particularly blue ones resembling long-term commitment and trust. He can’t ask much from them or crack a joke wondering when will he get a flower or a few: he can simply embrace them, and he’d receive the comforting smell of so many flowers that he might get dizzy.

JACOB

He's heard of the flower language, but he doesn't use it: at least not the way one would expect in the Victorian Era, a time when flower language was in fact standardized as public affection was frowned upon.

As much as (S/o) does put care into their flowers of choice, they mostly do it as a purpose of gifting. Jacob, however, has started to use it as means of conveying a message or information, a certain arrangement of varying flowers being capable of carrying on much about anything if done right: it can look silly, yes, but because of how common the language of flora is at the time, he's aware he can use it to his advantage.

.. He and his beloved may and may not also use it to entertain themselves: just to rouse a reaction out of unknowing spectators, they give, they toss, they full on throw bouquets at each other with a vast range of meanings behind each; one time making a show of absolute devotion to one another, and the other conveying disgust, initiating an emotional rollercoaster out of bystanders: all while the culprits disappear behind a corner while cackling together.

But sometimes, aside the Assassin duties and their shared antics, Jacob just prefers to hear what (S/o) has to say about a flower or so, occasionally coming from a patrol to sit down with a couple flowers and hear what they mean, much to the delight of his beloved. Or he comes to embrace them from behind, holding a precious flora as a means of apology for leading a Blighter to their doorstep when he was chased by one.

He also likes to put in the work sometimes to cut from the stem a little and make sure the flower bud sits behind (S/o)’s ear, being able watch them laugh and try to improve its placement. His favourite choice is flowers from heliotropes; standing for heartfelt adoration he has for them.

EVIE

Oh she knows really well about the language; she likely has had occasional exchanges or one sided confessions with these bouquets after all. It's just that she hasn't been able to incorporate it much to her life the busier she came with the London Assassin Brotherhood.

It's probable that she'd take on delivering information via flora as well: as commonplace the flower tongue is, it would be hard to suspect anything about them. Although there's doubt that she'd do those arrangements just for the purpose of aesthetics. It's appealing to see (S/o) do so, however, having gained a first impression on that outside London with an arrangement of Cornflowers, Chamomiles, and some Wheat: no, it did not have any meaning behind this bunch of petals.

There was this brief idea that a flower shop would make it easier for her beloved to do what they love; becoming a full time florist and regularly being able to put in their work. But by the words of (S/o), she had to realize them practicing the language of flowers in pursuit of profit would only drain them, losing the passion for in the process.

So by agreement they only stick to sending information to cooperators, and also sharing a private kiss while giving each other a pair of white and red chrysanthemums, white meaning loyalty and red meaning joy and love.

EIVOR

HERBS. That's his knowledge on flowers summarized. He has made tea out of them to warm his body in colder days; he has collected them by the request of the Seer and villagers in need; he has used them as means of medicine as well.

Eivor would have (S/o) tell him the advantages of, or at least identify, unrecognizable flora in their travels to England — obviously to end up not ingesting something poisonous, not wanting to do what could've been so easily prevented.

He did become intrigued over his lover’s particular interest in flowers, especially the supposed meaning behind them. It wouldn't be surprising to see him return to Ravensthorpe with some herbs, having picked out a certain flower he saw on the way and hear out what it stands for. And of course from there he received the shock of how varying their meanings can be, having recalled the same flower having a completely different symbolism back in Norway.

He more regularly, if given the opportunity, comes back with a small bundle of snowdrops, symbolizing hope, new beginnings, and the overcoming challenges, the beginnings parts being especially suitable for the springtime they bloom in.

© SEVIIUL do not plagiarize, steal, use for AI, repost on another platform.

[sansaurora9904]

Spoilers for HSR 3.4

Khaslana points out that Mydei hasn't meant the nickname Deliverer sincerely since the very first cycle. By this he probably means what Mydei calls him, as in the Khaslana that's gone through all the cycles, and not the Phainon who's living his first cycle. He might still call his own Phainon Deliverer and mean it. Yet I imagine that knowing where Phainon's journey leads him makes it difficult for Mydei to believe in the idea of a Deliverer at all.

But. Eventually there came a cycle where Khaslana stopped explaining his time travel deal to the Chrysos heirs and began concealing his identity. And that's the cycle where Mydei could once again call his Phainon the Deliverer and sincerely mean it (and we know from Aglaea's earlier words that he does).

I wonder which cycle it was.

[sansaurora9904]

At your service ✨

[sansaurora9904]

A sinner’s curse

[sansaurora9904]

HIS NEW BP ICON MAKES ME FEEL THINGS AAAAHHH

[sansaurora9904]

Genshin characters as ways animals court and mate

Welcome to another round of (hopefully) the weirdest biology lessons you'll ever receive. Essentially a shitpost, someone should take away my writing privileges. There could be better suited animals out there, I just chose from the ones I know.

Characters: Childe, Xiao, Xinyan, Dainsleif, Diluc, Albedo, Ganyu, Ifa

Not seeing your fav character? Find more here

Tags: nsfw in the way a national geographic documentary is, there are no graphic details but proceed at your own discretion

Childe / Ajax / Tartaglia - Vulpes vulpes (red fox)

Am I pushing an agenda here? Absolutely. Childe gets excited when he notices that you're beginning to pay attention to him - however sparse it may be - and does everything he can to interact with you, making sure to keep it fun and engaging (both for himself and you). Bright and cheerful while courting you. Childe is generally very easy-going but doesn't take kindly to others getting too familiar with you and he can, in those instances, turn quite territorial. Has a habit of disappearing for long periods of time on missions, but when he's there, he's very devoted. Male foxes get aggressive towards other males around breeding season. Courting includes loud calls and frolicking around with a chosen mate, typically play fighting and nipping at each other. Male foxes stay to help raise the pups, letting the female stay with the pups for the first weeks while he fetches food daily.

Xiao - Drosophila spp. (fruit flies)

This one isn't exactly a calculated move on Xiao's part, and he'd prefer that this wasn't a byproduct of sexual intimacy (intimacy of any kind really). Due to his karmic debt, Xiao affects his surroundings and 'taints' them. On his partner, this means that for a time after being with him, they experience mild symptoms akin to those you'd experience after being in close proximity to old god remains. The emotional effects last a couple of hours and make others less likely to engage in any kind of social behaviour with you. Drosophila males use a pheromone to mark a female as unattractive after mating, reducing the chances of his sperm being outcompeted. Some evidence suggests that the pheromone has mildly harmful effects on the female.

Xinyan - Cebuella pygmaea (Pygmy marmoset)

It might not come as a surprise that the courting (or dating) phase isn't particularly long with Xinyan, after all, you lose every chance you don't take. She has little care for norms, if she likes you, she'll let you know first chance she gets! Through music, Xinyan has a multitude of ways to convey her thoughts and feelings, be it with or without vocals. No matter her way with words, writing songs couldn't prepare for standing in front of you and getting the words past her lips, but she'll figure it out. One thing you hadn't expected is the way she slowly adopts your way of speaking (as you do hers) allowing you to develop what might sound like a completely new language to outsiders. It makes both of you laugh from time to time while spending quality time together, realising what you're saying sounds like a load of nonsense. Pygmy marmosets have incredibly complex vocal calls and a great intuitive understanding of how sound travels and interacts with things around them. Pairs will 'sing' together to strengthen their bond, and new pairs will rapidly adjust the sound, length etc. of their calls to create new and unique ones to use with their partner.

Dainsleif - Antechinus spp. (Marsupial mice)

Dainsleif yearns. And he lingers. His love is vast as an ocean and just as deadly- he knows (thinks) it will drown you both the moment he lowers his guard. For this reason, you're kept at arms length for a while, unsure if he wants you gone or not. It's impossible to tell with his tendency to appear for a moment and be gone the next. Every time you think yourself free and healed, he appears again to drive the blade further into both your hearts. When he finally caves, in a moment of weakness, the love he shares is passionate, the ferocity of a starved beast, keeping you awake throughout the night, crying out his name in pleasure. When you awake next, there's nothing but a scribbled apology next to you. Dainsleif doesn't return after that, but you swear he still lingers in your periphery. Marsupial mice have uhh interesting mating habits. Males are ready to breed a few weeks before breeding seasons start and females enter ovulation. Mating is intense but has a narrow window of opportunity. The males funnel so much energy into maximising reproductive capabilities, using up all energy storage, that a vast majority of males die off after mating. The level of free corticosteroids increase in the males during mating, which suppresses the immune system significantly.

Diluc - Pygoscelis papua (Gentoo penguin)

Once Diluc finds himself ready to settle down, you can rest assured that plenty of care went into that decision. After hovering around you for a while, slowly finding that he doesn't wish to be without your presence (I could write so much about this turning point for Diluc whew) he presents you with two seemingly odd items. One is an old-looking key, the other a locket containing a few grape seeds. The key is for the back-door to the winery so you can always come and go. The locket belonged to his mother and the seeds inside are for you to plant. He hopes you're as ready to settle down and build a life together as he is. Gentoo penguins build their nests out of rocks and males will essentially present a female with a carefully selected stone to signify "I would like to build a nest with you". Gentoo penguins are also known for being very strictly monogamously, to the point that sleeping around or attempting to can get an individual kicked out of the colony.

Albedo - Siphopteron quadrispinosum (sea slug)

This is dedicated entirely to you Petal <3 And to everyone else, sorry. While Rhinedottir did everything she could to make Albedo, he's lacking in certain places. Which was fine. Until he met you. But that's fine, he has a solution to that. He's spent weeks fussing over creating everything that would be needed, a bottle of pheromones to get you properly prepared and a perfectly shaped rod for insertion, the tip sharpened for piercing your skin of course. A lot of sea slugs are hermaphrodites and will, after feeling each other up, stab the other with a penile stylet and inject their fluids. Some of them do it directly into the other's head. The penile stylet regrows.

Ganyu - Capra spp. (Goats)

Sweet docile Ganyu absolutely adores it when she gets to cuddle up to you, especially if your arms are wrapped securely around her. At first, you find her tendency to bury her head into your armpit a bit odd, but it's pretty endearing to be honest. Xianyun clearly makes sure her daughter is dressed to impress, and although Ganyu flusters easily; especially when you grin happily upon seeing her, you have no doubt she enjoys the compliments. Each sweet word is rewarded with a little kiss to your forehead (why her smile always looks a little sad when she pulls away is something you'll have to ask about, maybe she's still insecure around you?) Oh I promise you dear reader, this particular behavior is not a sign of insecurity. Goats are self-anointing animals, meaning they make sure to smell. For goats, this behavior includes males urinating on their forelegs and his own face, which combined with a secretion from glands located at the base of his horns, ensures a seductive scent. Some females have been observed to completely refuse mating with a buck who's had those glands removed.

Ifa - Giraffidae spp. (Giraffes)

When Ifa has to travel, he makes sure to always stop by your place every chance he gets. Some might call him clingy (and they would be correct) but he simply can't stand being away from you for more than a week at a time. There are, of course, certain benefits to dating a vet (what are humans if not animals as well) and Ifa is always looking out for you, running a few tests here and there, and making sure you're in top condition, he's quite the attentive partner! Back to the 'needy' point, Ifa can't keep his hands off of you. In fact, he can't keep his tongue away either, always licking at your skin before inevitably nudging your legs apart to have a taste. Male giraffes roam while looking for opportunities to mate, with them going into rut approximately every two weeks. They determine if a female is in oestrus by tasting her urine. If the male moves on to courting, he will start licking the female, attempting to rest his head against her, and occasionally give a little nudge with his ossicones.

[sansaurora9904]

Heroes never die

[sansaurora9904]

it wasn't pomegranate..

[sansaurora9904]

But there's still tenderness in your eyes,

How pathetic.

[sansaurora9904]

You know how birds of prey calm down when their eyes are covered? Hc that when Xiao's overwhelmed, or he has a flare up in his karmic debt, you learn to cup your hands over his eyes because it helps calm him down and feel safer.

[sansaurora9904]

bubbles clipped into his leg in such a way, it looked like its napping against it and it was too cute

[sansaurora9904]

I humbly request Amphoreus men with a Halovian reader, reacting to their freaky psychic abilities, the bird wings, halo, and how they absolutely cannot take a hit. Listen, songbirds are infuriatingly fragile, I've had them as pets. Trust me.

Porcelain Divinity

Synopsis: Bearing wings, a halo, and psychic power—but none of a soldier’s resilience—they bewilder, frustrate, and ultimately enchant those hardened by strife.

Tags: Anaxa x Reader, Mydei x Reader, Phainon x Reader, Halovian!Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Psychic Powers, Romance, Soft Moments Amid War, Found Family, Banter, Protective Instincts, Emotional Vulnerability, Character Introspection.

Warnings: Blood/Injury (Minor Descriptions), Emotional Distress, References To Death And War, Fragile Body Horror (Mild), Intense Affection Veiled As Irritation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms (Grief, Overprotection).

You collapse again—on the obsidian floor of the abandoned observatory—your breath rattling like loose parchment in the wind. A crimson splotch decorates your feathered shoulder, delicate bone nearly shattered by a minor deflection.

Anaxa doesn’t curse. He hisses, like steam beneath cracking stone.

“Did I not explicitly say, do not engage the arcanum juggernaut alone?” he snaps, striding over with the rage of a dying star and the precision of a surgeon.

You try to sit up. “I was… fine until the explosion.”

“Ah yes,” he mutters, kneeling beside you, his gloved fingers glowing faintly gold as they hover over your wound. “Because explosions, I hear, are famously gentle to brittle-boned divines with wings made of hope and denial.”

You laugh—wince—then laugh again.

“Mockery and martyrdom,” he says, dryly amused now. “Tell me, were you also planning to sermonize while bleeding out?”

You glance at his solemn face, and something flickers behind his eye. His palm hovers over your chest, your halo flickers uncertainly above.

“You fascinate me,” he says suddenly, voice lowered. “A being born of sky, dipped in prophecy, yet somehow you break like chalk on the first draft of history. That fragility…” He frowns. “It enrages me. Because I fear it.”

Your breath catches. “Why?”

“Because I can’t predict you. Can’t control it. And it means I might lose you before I finish understanding why your soul sounds like a song I’ve never heard before.”

And with that, he lifts you gently—not like glass, but like truth: weightless, dangerous, and deserving of reverence.

You flutter down from the ridge, landing beside Mydei in a half-collapse of feathers and grace. Your wing twitches. Your knees buckle.

He’s at your side in a flash.

“Not again,” he murmurs, voice soft but grave. “This is the third time you’ve dropped like a sparrow from the sky.”

You grin despite the blood on your lip. “But I made the shot.”

His eyes narrow, flickering with both pride and quiet exhaustion. “Yes. And nearly died again doing it.”

You flop dramatically against a nearby stone. “Halovians don’t die. We ascend.”

“Halovians bleed,” he growls, tearing fabric to wrap your shoulder. “You bleed more than any warrior I’ve fought beside. Even with your psychic shields. You're all mind and light, and not enough armor.”

“Wouldn’t exactly match the vibe,” you whisper, voice waning. “Halo, feathers, choir energy…”

Mydei lifts your chin gently. “Then I’ll be your armor. Even if you hate hiding behind others. Even if you tell me not to.”

You blink. “You’re not scared of me?”

He smiles faintly. “You terrify me. Not for your power. But because you’re fragile… and you keep throwing yourself into storms like you’ve never seen rain before.”

You feel tears build.

“Next time,” he whispers, lifting you onto his back like you weigh nothing, “you fly behind me. And stay behind me, songbird.”

You are unconscious for exactly three seconds after the explosion.

Then you blink awake—to see Phainon hovering over you, white hair dusted with ash, his face absolutely wrecked with concern.

“Oh my stars,” he breathes. “Are your wings bent? Are they crumpled? Your halo’s flickering! That’s not supposed to flicker, is it?”

You wheeze. “They just… clipped me. I’m—”

“You’re not fine,” he says, scooping you up and running fast. “You fell like a dropped porcelain plate. I thought—” He bites off the rest, clearly shaken. “You psychic types need a ‘do not poke’ sticker on your forehead.”

“Maybe a ‘caution: glass soul’ sign?”

“You're laughing again,” he says, scandalized. “How are you laughing?”

You reach up, brushing a soot-smudge from his cheek. “Because you’re cute when you panic.”

He flushes, nearly trips, then keeps running. “I panic because I like you, featherbrain!”

There’s a long pause as you rest against his chest, halo now steadier.

“I don’t care if you’re fragile,” he murmurs. “But I need you to let me help. You're made of light and high notes and cosmic static, and I’m… I’m just a sword. But I can cut through the dark for you.”

You press your head to his shoulder. “Then I’ll be your guiding flame.”

Phainon smiles through the tears he’ll never admit were there. “Deal. But if you faint mid-sentence again, I will wrap you in bubble wrap.”

[sansaurora9904]

IDOL!SCARA HEADCANONS

no warnings + gn!reader

idol!scara who is immediately sinking into your arms as soon as he gets off stage. he's exhausted, annoyed and, awfully clingy.

idol!scara who had threatened to quit if his company tried breaking the two of you up.

idol!scara who gets annoyed every time he stumbles upon an edit of him only to find that you've already reposted it.

idol!scara who once discontinued his plushy line simply because you'd rather cuddle a stuffed-toy version of himself rather than the real thing.

idol!scara who ignores you for a day after finding out that you stan other idols. you're his after all!

idol!scara who's all pouty that you haven't praised him for coming up with new choreography. of course, he'll scowl and push you off when you call out his neediness.

idol!scara who rents out a whole café for a date with you. he can't have those annoying cameras trying to take a photo of him and his beloved after all.

idol!scara who has had multiple twitter threads and news outlets written about him and his bad attitude.

idol!scara who feigns sick during one of his tours just to go sight-seeing with you in a foreign country.

[sansaurora9904]

If I continue to regress, will I ever get to meet you again?

[sansaurora9904]

phainon | relationship headcanons — what kind of lover is he?

content: fluff, phainon bf hcs, he’s a sweetheart, pet names: my beloved, gn!reader, mentions of pregnancy cravings but no one’s pregnant, probably slight angst at the end?

this guy is soft spoken. when explaining things, he’s calm, collected and his voice is so gentle with you. so when in arguments, expect that he’ll be the rational one between the two of you in the case that you’re hot headed. he’s the type of guy that balances out your loud and aggressive side (if you’re like that) because he’s such a sweet guy.

when he makes a mistake and realizes that, he’ll definitely apologize to you. no prides, no questions asked. if you don’t forgive him immediately, he’ll do anything. flowers? your favorite food? snack? this guy will be literally on his knees begging for forgiveness. this guy has no shame.

how about when he’s jealous? his voice can turn passive aggressive when he sees a guy or girl obviously hitting on you. no shame for that person, he thinks. he’ll have his arms around your waist, pull you closer to him until there’s literally no space left between you and will go like “are you bothering my beloved?” then glaring so hard until the other person hitting on you ran away. after that, he’d kiss the top of your head and go somewhere else.

he can be playful, both actions and tone of his voice. he might tease you a lil bit but it’s all fun and games. there’s something about that kind of trait that makes him look attractive. like you’d love to banter with him, of course not crossing the line.

when he’s retelling a tale of his fights or journey as a chrysos heir, he’d be poetic that puts shakespeare to shame. very descriptive scenarios he might re-enact them. that kind of thing. he’s like your personal bedtime story.

when it comes to fighting, we all know how skilled he is. but when you can’t fight, he can teach you. i did mention he’s soft spoken right? it’s the same with teaching you how to wield a sword and swing your blade. he’s very gentle with you. he won’t humiliate you for making a mistake. just so you could learn how to defend yourself against the enemies. if you can fight, he can worry about you but that doesn’t mean he’ll undervalue your strength and capabilities.

what if you have a request that phainon thinks he can’t do? for example, pregnancy cravings. he will do his absolute best to satisfy those cravings. if not pregnancy cravings and just normal or period cravings, same attitude. he’ll do anything and everything to give it to you.

PRAISE. he’s big on praising you even in the smallest things. you did well on your test? he’ll praise you. you flunked your test? he’d praise you for doing your best even if you feel otherwise. you successfully killed an enemy? soooo much praise from him.

values companionship and in extension, your relationship with him. you’re his lover, the light of his life, his air, his beloved heart. he adores you. your relationship with him is one of the things he keeps on going. he loves you too much that he will do everything to give you a beautiful world for you to live in.

we all know he has priorities and responsibilities that come in being a chrysos heir. he’ll put the planet first before you. the typical you or the world situation BUT he will try to put you first along with saving the world. if not, it will break his heart. to choose between you and the world.

[sansaurora9904]

synopsis ; imagine phainon w/ a reader who isn’t affected by the abnormally dangerous temperature of his alt form?

featuring ; gender neutral reader & phainon (alt form)

cw ; lots of physical touch (given the premise, of course), mostly fluff!

phainon, upon realising that you, perhaps because of a distant god’s mercy, aren’t affected by the scorching heat of his body? oh, he becomes obsessed with your touch.

often, you find him at your balcony after sundown, knocking on the glass door that separates it from your room.

per usual, his smile is eager—it puzzles you that he is capable of the same exuberance after countless reoccurrences of similar nights. alas, your confusion is a result of your ignorance. only when phainon narrates the tales of how much he has endured, will you comprehend why he clings to you with such profound persistence.

from the edge of your bed, you give him a nod of acknowledgment; his cue to let himself in.

with glee, he approaches you as his wings protrude from his back, blocking the dim lighting of your room and casting a shadow over your figure—a stark reminder of how dangerous this man is.

the glowing ichor swirls in the seemingly vast space underneath his open wounds. it’s almost enchanting, much like his eyes that—when closely observed—carry the weight of the world behind them.

before you can admire his devastatingly beautiful form any longer, he pushes you into the plush mattress. his arms, strong and blue with hints of divine golden littered across their surface, snake around your waist. his gauntleted hand digs into the flesh under your shirt, the cold armour (strangely enough) clashing with the heat your body radiates. it doesn’t hurt you, but it does draw out a reaction that causes phainon to sigh fondly.

“my hair’s a little messy, don’t you agree?”

you’ve quickly learnt that the subtleties phainon likes to play around are not because he’s embarrassed to communicate explicitly what he wants, rather because he doesn’t want to seem imposing. you think he doesn’t want you to fear him, for amongst all his desires there is also a desire for you to know that you are allowed to reject him.

even in this mighty stature, he remains gentle. something about that makes you adore him more.

as such, in quiet understanding, your digits begin to tangle themselves between the strands of his hair. grouping some, then braiding them with practised ease.

this continues until phainon decides to rise from his position, towering over your body as you watch the little braids come undone, earning him a petulant pout.

he chuckles—the sound of his mirth flows like honey to your ears, erasing the petty creases between your brows.

“did i upset you? i’m sorry, they felt—” his wings stretch and flex, the muscles of his shoulder tensing shortly, “—stiff.”

his gaze flicks to the fabric of your top that’s lifting, exposing the skin he’s grown accustomed to touching; finding reassurance in knowing that you won’t be harmed.

his thumb rubs your hip as he nears you once more, slotting his head by your jaw where he leaves small, intimate pecks. your hands, that lie against his chest begin to reach for his broad shoulders—they’re painstakingly slow, which excites phainon for reasons he can’t quite decipher.

he wonders if you can detect the fluctuations in his temperature because he’s certain it’s hotter now (the closeness is to blame, it produces a bout of jitters that feels like a new experience every time).

phainon retreats, his fingers intertwining with yours. he places a kiss on your knuckles, whilst his pupils are busy studying every feature that adorns your visage—every imperceptible change, he notices it.

the flush decorating your cheeks grows darker, for instance. your lips barely parting. your countenance would seem caught in a trance to the untrained eye, but your micro-expressions tell phainon that you’re reacting, every bit as immersed in this moment as he is.

something in him stirs, increasing the pace of whatever beats inside his chest. he likes the feeling of knowing that his need—a need so aching, desperate, is reciprocated, if only for a fleeting fragment of time.

he bites the inside of his mouth in brief contemplation before collapsing on you—without warning, to add. the abrupt action naturally elicits a squeak from you.

“phai—phainon?”

he hums, the rich timbre reverberating against the walls that cage your heart (to protect you from him, he had once jested).

“i’ll sleep with you. i don’t want to go home.”

you’re unsure if it’s the heavy burden that settles over his words or your weak will that bends so easily to his, but it forces you to betray your better judgement. after all, none can deny a man who yearns so fervently.

[sansaurora9904]

3.4 SPOILERS !!!!!!!!!!! hurt/no comfort we rip out our hearts like phainon in his ult, character death (reader), you have been warned

tripping over my own feet, scrambling to the mic to share this thought as i'm dripping in cold sweat:

Reader, who is the bearer of a coreflame in this cycle, the same one that you know Khaslana is coming for.

You stand watching over your domain from the balcony of an abandoned building, imminent doom looming overhead. You’ve been prepared for this; the lurch in your stomach, the uneasy buildup of anxiety that sit in your gut like a bottomless pit of nothingness, it all speaks volumes about how long you’ve dreaded this moment. 

You hate feeling so helpless as fate creeps closer and closer like a dark looming cloud, you hate the shake in your hands as you grip your weapon tightly, and you hate that you know this won’t end happily for you. 

Why did it come to this? When? How?

When did it go from the simpler days- times of when you were naively in love with the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with, to this?

You followed him like a loyal dog. Out of Aedes Elysiae, through countless city-states, journeyed with him past thick mangroves and gazed out at the vast sealine of Amphoreus together, your relationship budding into something irreplaceable, something worth being retold in myths.

Lovers so inseparable that it seems divinely ordained, lovers who were created with the other in mind, lovers who would kill for each other.

When did it go from killing for each other, to killing each other? 

The memories are fuzzy around the edges, but you had watched him descend into madness for too long, going after each coreflame and keeping them all in his own body like he was an indestructible vessel. You had watched him turn against your fellow Chrysos Heirs, slain them all like it was the ���right path to take’, the only method of Deliverance.

You watched him take that title and run rampant, patience beginning to fray as he… turned into someone you didn’t recognise.

You knew you had to do something about it, you couldn’t keep yourself willing in his hands any longer. An anger that felt primordial, like it has been growing steadily within you for millenniums, finally erupting to drive you to do something about it.

The prophecies sing you to be the bearer of a coreflame, so you will heed the call, and stand opposing your lover. 

“This might be the hardest challenge I’ve had to face,” his words are carried to you by the wind, gentle in tone but so mellow and melancholic.

You turn to face your lover, determination burning in your soul. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“And I’ve been searching for you,” Khaslana mimics, eyes swirling with emotions you can’t read, eyebrows downturned– he looks so small, he doesn’t even have his weapon drawn, unlike you. “Y/n, please, don’t do this.”

“I know I’m no match for you, but I couldn’t stand watching you spiral any longer,” tears prick the edges of your eyes as the image of the man you love blurs. “This journey, the outcome of Deliverance you so obsessively chase, it’s not right, you’re destroying yourself.”

“I’m doing what needs to be done.”

“And what needs to be done now is to kill me, right? Tear the coreflame out of my chest? To bring the end of the Flamechase Journey… alone?”

He flinches, each word piercing through his chest deeper than the previous. Still, his will is unwavering when he answers. “Yes.”

“Why?” Your voice cracks. “Why shoulder this by yourself? Why bear the weight of a hundred million coreflames by yourself when we want to help? Why do you insist on such a cruel ending for yourself?”

Khaslana doesn’t answer, only stare at your face like it’s the last time he will see it, as if he’s etching it into memory, every line, every dimple, every imperfection, everything. 

“Because the destination is too perilous,” he mutters. “Because this is the only way to stop Era Nova, and I refuse to let any of you burn with me.” 

“Is this what you think ‘mercy’ is, Lord Khaslana?”

He nods. “It is the closest semblance of mercy I can offer.”

“Fine.” You raise your sword, steel pointed against him. “Show me this ‘mercy’ then.”

Dawnmaker materialises into his hand, and it drags on the floor behind him as he slowly steps toward you. “It doesn’t have to end like this.”

“I know.” 

It’s you who lunges first, swinging first as his larger blade clashes against yours. You can’t take him head-on, the weight of his weapon could shatter yours easily, so you have to weave around him, light on your toes like a dancer. 

You deflect more than you parry, and he stays on the defensive, watching each move keenly, refusing to hurt you. 

You don’t even realise you’re crying, the adrenaline stubbornly keeping you on your feet as you fight the love of your life. All of those sparring sessions to help each other train, to hone each other’s skills, who would have known that it would lead to this? Why is it him that has to be the one to kill you? 

Swordsmanship was a skill you honed to fight against the black tide, to stop those you love from meeting their end from those corrupt, vile creatures, so why is it being used now like this? Why is it Phainon that your blade seeks to kill? 

Why is his blade– the same one that slaughtered Mydeimos, Castorice, and Hyacinthia, the one to pierce through your stomach? 

You gasp when the pain shoots through your body, eyes widening as you feel the sharp ache. Blood rises like bile, and you cough it out, golden ichor dripping from your lips. 

When the cold steel retracts from your body, the piercing pain immobilizes you, causing you to heave as blood pools onto the tiles beneath you. It’s hard to stay upright, your strength slipping away from you as your chipped sword clangs onto stone. 

Then, your knees give out and you all but collapse.

Faintly, you hear the sound of his weapon being discarded, then he materialises beneath you to catch you before the cold, unforgiving ground can, his arms cradling you to his chest. 

He’s sobbing. Neither of you thought he could cry, yet the tears now pour out of him in endless streams, scalding droplets landing on your face while your blood soaks through his clothes, pooling around the two of you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, searching for your hand that’s already growing cold and gripping it so tightly like he’s trying to anchor the last semblances of life in your body from fading. “I’m sorry, my love, I’m sorry, forgive me, please.” 

You don’t have the strength to say anything, or even move your hand to reassure him, and it kills him because all he wants is to hear your voice one last time. 

He presses a long kiss to your temple, murmuring something that you can’t hear as your vision begins to vignette, your breathing growing more laboured as your consciousness begins to slip away.

“You’re supposed to be here with me,” he whispers. “It’s not supposed to end like this.” 

There’s a warm hand on your face, prompting you to look up at him. You try your best to smile but he only cries harder. 

“I love you. I love you so much, Y/n, I’ll be with you in the next cycle, I won’t let us end like this again, please, wait for me.” 

Despite your silence, you hope he understands that you’ll wait. You will be by his side, you will make the journey from humble Aedes Elysiae to breathtaking Okhema in every cycle, no matter what, without hesitation, without regret. 

As your last proclamation of love, the coreflame he was searching for manifests in it’s purest form, floating before the two of you, ready for him to take. His heart cracks at the sight and shatters in a million pieces when your eyes droop close, the fight finally ending.

Creatures nearby could hear the man wail loudly for hours after.

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