#I am beginning to respect Thinner more and more

[zenmom]

Some angst this time.

Sitting alone. Feels an emotion of betrayal or devastation. No one else than the backup detectives appreciate the work she’s done and analysed. With each passing second, a burning rage of sorrow and anger mixing together like troubled waters of the sea, pushes her emotional urge to unleash magic at very near catastrophic levels. A magic stemmed from negativity. Or perhaps, something, that only one thing, could fix all of this…

Yeah I pretty much try my hardest not to cry. My anger maybe be caused by inconvenience and frustrations , my disgust by, well, disgusting things, my fear by the desire to live to deliver the evidence and triumph of bravery. But sadness, a strong one indicates that I’ve got problems buried in my head. That the problems are hard to solve or emotional. Of all my emotions, I show my sadness the least.

[fun-k-board]

Rotxo x metikayan reader?

Y/n isnt a healer or a fighter, they enjoy singing and dancing for the clan

Other then that I've got nothing so go crazy!!

Rotxo x Metkayina ! Reader

Pronouns used : They / Them

Note(s) : The readers ilu is named Kailani, no reason other than it'd be clunky to constantly write 'the ilu'

"When you bond with a ilu they do not bond for life, they are not owned by anybody, you will be able to make the bond soon but first you must-" The gentle yet firm hold I had on my ilu, Kailani, was loosened in confusion as my words trailed off, the lesson put a hold as the children watching my demonstration jumped. The distracting event that caused this being an unusual flap of strong wings and an earsplitting animal cry.

This did not sound like the creatures I had ever been familiar with.

My eyes snapped up and landed on the ikran's in the sky, tilting my head as Kailani done the same, chirping in confusion and fear at the five flying creatures. They were from the forest, forest people do not come to our islands unless they were warning or in trade with my people. The latter has not happened for years. The children began muttering, looking completely mesmerised by the ikran's, I sternly began speaking to them.

"Although it is unlikely this is a warning of danger, we must be respectful to them, understand?" My ears downcast in worry as my heavy tail stiffly stuck to my leg as a hope for closeness. The multiple lessons on culture or gathering materials were stopped, all children were now on the back of the adult's or teenager's ilus to ride over and witness what was happening.

One hopped behind me on Kailani and held on tight. I gently stroked the head of Kailani and muttered 'forward', repeating comforting words in my head to calm both me and the the unsure ilu down, sucking in a hurried breath and slowing down my now steady heartbeat as my head peeked underwater. I expertly navigated the corals and stones leading to the beach where they'd land, worried for the safety of my people made you almost completely unaware of my own surroundings, yet still pushing forward until I saw the sand form a slope to the beach.

As my head slowly rose from the water I breathed in the air, waiting until Kailani didn't have much more room to swim so I could gently take the child off her back, pushing them to join their mother who hurriedly motioned for them to come closer.

I had come just in time to witness them be in conversation with our tribes Olo'eyktan and Tsahik, Tonowari and Ronal respectively. The forest people had strange features, while I was of course fully aware forest people had darker skin, thinner arms, different eyes and fluffy tipped tails, however these ones had more fingers than they were suppose to, and strange hair above their eyes.

This was very crudely pointed out by the Tsahik who was only convinced to give them shelter by their close family bond, the Olo'eyktan motioned to the group of teenagers consisting of his two children, Ao'nung and Tsireya, along with Rotxo, telling them how they'd be of assistance to learn the ocean people's ways.

He then turned to me, informing the family of outsiders how I am one of the best at teaching young ones to prepare for ilu's and even a warriors ride. Therefore it would stand to reason I would be excellent at teaching them our people's ways, as if they were young children learning for the first time.

My heart sped up slightly at the thought of working with Rotxo, I had been nervous around him for years and so rarely joined in on hunts where he was involved. It helped greatly how I'm not a healer or one of the warriors in training for my tribe, therefore I would not be in close proximity to healing him as he was fairly reckless, nor would I be training with him regularly. However, now I wouldn't be able to back out, it made me nervous, but also made me excited.

On the next sunrise me and the others would begin teaching the outsiders, and while I had never prided myself on appearances, preferring your cultures dances or songs, I took extra time doing my hair and perfecting how our clothing was worn. I'd told myself it was in order to show a good first impression for the tribes guests, however, I was fully aware of the true reason.

With an extra pep in my step, bouncing lightly on the cloth which connected my own marui and another's, then jumping from them into the water. I happily twirled around the rich wildlife around me and drifted towards the main part of the beach. Popping my head out of the water, I noticed Tsireya and two of the forest people, but nobody else. Slowly standing up and exiting the water, I looked around completely confused on where Rotxo and the others were.

"Where is everybody?" I questioned Tsireya, she smiled knowingly at the very obvious 'hidden' meaning to my question.

"Rotxo." She paused with heavy emphasis on his name "Is with Ao'nung, Neteyam, the eldest brother, and Kiri, the eldest daughter. We will be teaching Tuk-" She gestured to the youngest. "-and Lo'ak." Tsireya gave a softer smile to him and almost whispered his name, I honestly wanted to laugh at how she teased me for my crush yet was head over heels for a complete stranger, but I held my tongue.

"Alright, should we begin with breathing exercises?" I sucked in a sharp breath and tried to not seem too down, they need teaching and I was chosen for this reason, not to drool needlessly over a boy.

When the first lesson was over, Tuk and Lo'ak had done well in learning how to hold their breath effectively, and while they couldn't hold it anywhere near me or Tsireya, the forest siblings were better than when they had started. The group were all going to disperse when I heard loud splashing.

"First lesson over for you as well? Thought you'd take less time" The eldest brother rolled his eyes at Lo'ak's passive aggressive comment, smiling and sassily smacking the back of his head. He was going to reply when a bundle of hair bounced to Tsireya and loudly spoke.

"Because we're done with lessons can I learn songs!" Tuk dragged out songs and tugged on Tsireya's arm, who looked down at her shining yellow eyes and laughed a little.

"Well, I am the wrong person, look over there if you want to learn dance and song." She teasingly whispered, shaking her shoulders and smiling bright at how my face practically lit up in seconds.

"Oh! Yes, well what type do you want to know? We have plenty of wonderful songs and dance for you to learn! Of course it cannot compare to your own culture which has more music than us, however it is still needed for certain ceremonies and-" I continued rambling as Tuk's excited look got happier every second, bouncing on her feet and begging for you to teach her.

"Tonight I will teach you! Do you all wish to join as well?" I looked at the other siblings in anticipation, who nodded and agreed with eager smiles. I turned to the other Metkyina's present. "Tsireya, Ao'nung-" I shyly looked down, my face beginning to burn a little "Rotxo... Do you want to join in teaching?"

"Why not? Some of our practices do require many of us." Tsireya grinned, turning to her brother who rolled his eyes. Muttering some choice words to which she slapped his arm and looked with eyes wide at me and Rotxo. Ao'nung's mouth gaped for a second before chuckling.

"Sure, fine." He agreed, Rotxo only joining due to this, I gratefully smiled at the chiefs son and motioned for them all to join me.

"We shall go prepare," I turned to the forest siblings "You will all meet us here after we eat, okay?" They all nodded, a small grumble from Lo'ak on if he has to but agreeing with a grin for a certain friend of mine nonetheless.

We shall rushed to our marui and gained permission to ask for some instruments that players would be willing to lend us, along with playing for when he would dance. When the time had come, I noticed Tsireya and Ao'nung whispering to each other, worried on if something was wrong I decided to approach them.

"Are we missing anything?" Tsireya shyly looked down.

"I forgot to ask one of the instrument players, is there any way you could go to Apikalia and ask if they will join?" She asked, I nodded given we still had a few minutes until we were expected to start.

"Of course!" I began my way across the beach, skipping and happily humming a tune to myself while in waiting, jumping up to the cloth bridges. However, as I looked into Apikalia's marui not to find them, but to find Rotxo.

I jumped in surprise and he proceeded to do the same, holding a hand over his beating heart. My face burned hot, I looked down and began stuttering, I realised I was set up by Tsireya and her brother.

"Oh, you're already looking for them? I will go-" My sentence was momentarily cut off as Rotxo rushed forward and grabbed my hand. Only a few feet away from me.

"Why are you avoiding me?" His voice was high and offended, but also worried. I opened my mouth in shock, closing it soon after when his eyes almost welled with tears, shiny and deep whenever I looked in them, demanding an answer.

"I didn't want to, I just..." Gulping, I thought. Better now then never. "Can't face you." I closed my eyes and breathed in deep, slowly preparing myself to answer.

"Because...?" He trailed off, Rotxo's eyes had fear in them. For what I was unsure, but if I hid my feelings things would never progress.

"Because I love you. Rotxo. I see you." My hands subconsciously done the motion, looking up into his shocked eyes. They softened as he stepped closer to me.

"And I see you." His grip left my hand, instead going to my shoulders and leaning in close. I done the same, both of us closing our eyes, both our lips meeting in a sweet and shy kiss. Neither aware on how to do this, but both confident in our abilities as long as it was us. Together.

When we separated, I looked down.

"We were set up..." I awkwardly twiddled with my hands. "Tsireya and her dumb brother." I mumbled and crossed my arms, moving back two steps.

"Oh, I thought we were genuinely both searching for Apikalia." He chuckled, scratching the back of his head shyly when I laughed, moving his other hand down to hold my own. Both of our heads turned to the opening when someone awwd and another gagged.

"You two are so adorable." Tsireya held a hand over her chest in adoration, laughing loudly when I stuck my tongue out like a child.

"You're so gross." Ao'nung cringed at us. We both, embarrassed, realised we were still holding hands. Yanking my hand off and glaring daggers at the other boy.

"At least we have each other, what do you have?" I sassily crossed my arms over my chest, Rotxo held a hand over this mouth trying desperately not to laugh at him.

"They're not wrong-" Tsireya began teasing her brother but he playfully hissed at me and began leaving.

"Come on, they're expecting us and we're late, losers." Ao'nung chuckled when he heard me stomping over, jumping into the water and avoiding my playful slap to his head.

"He's right, let's go." Tsireya joined her brother swimming to the beach, I smiled and looked back to Rotxo who was shyly walking closer to me.

"So you want to hunt with me tommorow? I know you don't like hunting but, it's either you or Ao'nung." He shyly held his hand out, to which I took and grinned.

"Of course I'll join you, idiot. Don't think I'll be any good though."

[naomikojima]

TASK FIVE: The Memory

DATE: Monday, September 5, 2005

TIME: 6:21pm

LOCATION: The Dining Room

Naomi did her best to stifle a yawn as she walked into the dining hall, still recovering from her theater nap. It was odd to return to the routine from her youth of getting ready for dinner, walking past the same walls and it not feeling as familiar as it should. She slid her hands down the back of her legs, smoothing out her brown dress before sitting down. It was always a chore to pick where to sit, to find the spot that would provide the more boring, therefore peaceful and calm, dining experience she could.

Her eyes widened as the food as in front of them, an excited inhale and smirk soon followed. Naomi loved food, and this was exactly the reminder of Richard's favorite that she needed in her preparation for the gala. If anything, Mrs. Tristan was starting to earn points with Naomi by doing this, and letting her stay in the kitchen during the gala.

The last interaction with Richard felt insignificant except for it being their last. A quick morning phone call for Naomi that was a late afternoon call for Richard. She couldn't recount everything they discussed, except that she wanted to read more, he spoke about cars (which Naomi knew very little nor cared much about) and the foundation. He went off on his tangents as he normally did, and she spoke only a little as she normally did. The last time she had been at Woodrow, left more of an impression.

It was the last day of a work weekend, some gala hosted by a rich asshole who was paying handsomely for Naomi, Taro and two of their staff to fly to New York and attend. She was hesitant about accepting it, but it was a chance for her to return something to Richard. She didn't want to stay too long, linger in the memories good and bad, and chose the last day on purpose. Richard seemed excited to see her, she was grateful to see him and only Mrs. Tristan briefly. They spoke about the book she was returning, chuckled that Richard had already replaced it, and had a light snack together. It should have been an ideal visit, but the little things nagged at Naomi. She was away long enough for to see him through fresher eyes, he seemed so much older than she remembered. The way he walked, how his skin was a little thinner and the veins in his hand seemed more obvious than she could recall. It was possible it was all in her head, that he was moving and looking amazing for his age, but it brought a grim reminder. Richard wouldn't last forever, but he was the best parent she ever knew.

The thought of recounting it all, laying her emotions bare in front of the others made her shudder. Naomi had made herself a public wound at the eulogy, letting not only those close to her, but people Richard respected see her love for him in all it's awful, complicated way. It wasn't sufficient for Sebastian, and likely the others, Naomi feared. Vulnerability wasn't welcome at Woodrow, and she wasn't willing to let that wound bleed again.

"I guess I can go." It was towards the beginning of the others speaking, eager to be in the less memorable middle, Naomi's spoke fast, but kept her eyes on the candles on the table. "I don't know if I ever mentioned, but he taught me to swim. In the pond, actually." She had used his name so rarely since he passed, it didn't feel right to bring it out again. Her mouth was dry, and it was tempting to down what remained in her wine glass before continuing. "Um, I am grateful for that. He didn't have to do that, but I was scared and he made it easy. I felt safe with him." She ended her tale with a shrug, an attempt to wave it off it wasn't good enough.

Her foot tapped on the floor at an anxious rhythm and Naomi didn't meet anyone's gaze, worried that she'd see something, Mickey's innocence, Steph's pain, Sebastian's judgement, Celia's sympathy, and it would bring the tears back, and the chance to say the quiet parts out loud. She trusted Richard, loved him and now he was gone. "So whose next?" Naomi made sure to bring the wine glass to her lips, vowing now to lower it until someone else was in the hot seat.

[thenuministry]

1692

Hello October!

Welcome ‘spooky season’!

This is the time of the year where ‘the veil gets thinner’ as they say.

As a psychic medium, it seems everyone wants to engage in chatter with me these days.

This is absolutely an exaggeration.

I am not that interesting.

But, I would like to sleep like a normal person ; p

Boundaries are a current practice for me, especially in the Spirit, which is fitting considering the season of exploration I am consciously walking into.

A little backdrop: In May of this year, I had an encounter with Lilith and followed the suggestion to devote myself to her mysteries for a year.

Upon entering this connection, I learned very quickly that she is a whole different facet of the Divine Feminine.

Her teachings can be easily missed if you are not connected to instinct and intuition. Then when you have this baseline, she ups the ante and begins to tinker with all of your feminine shadows. 

You will also find this is a kink for her because every time you are confronted with some juicy, dark detail of your life, you will also find you are turned on by it-and she invites you to accept that turn on as well.

Sexy, Sexy. : p

Lilith is such a powerhouse and has a very layered approach.

Just now I received a vision of a snake shedding its' skin.

Love and respect her and she will reward you with your hidden treasures.

Which leads me to what I feel is a B-Side of walking her path.

Engaging ‘The Witch’.

At this moment, I have been invited to go back to the Occult roots I began to traverse in my early teens when I felt the pull and circling of the feminine and to start asking deeper questions around why I stepped away from the practice.

In my recent ancestor work (who seem to roar when an injustice has occurred around me) there is an inward call to reconcile the damage that has occurred between my pagan ancestors and those who have felt justified to divide and conquer in the name of Christianity aka Patriarchy.

This is a theme that continues to manifest itself in my current life (it is actually quite explosive) and I realize that it is time to put my big girl panties on to merge the spiritual with the worldly now that I have deepened my relationship to myself and my Spiritual work.

What I am finding is that this internal conflict, or sacred wound, is part of the answer to creating this something bigger that has been living inside me for so long and that connects personal desire with a vision for the whole.

I have subconsciously believed I was unworthy of protection or protecting myself and my space, I also believed that I did not have it in me to be an activist. (I still struggle, it's getting better though).

As impassioned as I become about the injustices I witness and now speak to and as inspired as I am by my own internal compass, perspective, and values;

Even with all of this fire (albeit not properly channeled over the years), I often suffered from a wild case of ‘imposter syndrome’ not realizing that this sensation is a part of the larger picture my life has been desiring to form.

If I would have come into the acceptance of my own power sooner,  I would have been able to see how life has indeed held up a mirror to how I was meant to show up in this world. 

and might I add, smoother for my own nervous system... : /

The details have followed me all the way up until this moment of realization.

So you can say Lilith has offered me a big bang of sorts ; p

This ecstatic and emboldened resurgence of empowerment has gifted me more space to allow a fresh approach for my inner muse to truly shine

…and to stand in it.

This next sequence is in confronting the part of my collapse that I have always avoided (or been dumb to) until now.

Just because Eden was a form and/or example of an existence did not mean that life outside of Eden was barren.

Lilith created her life from the nothing they said she was.

She understood that she was the fertile ground her life would grow from.

Welcome to my season of ‘The Witch’.

[n03atn0v3mb3r]

Tw: rant about family, EDs, and relationships

Ok I’m gonna sound like a fuckin weirdo but here we go.

I have to be skinnier than my bf’s mom by March. I know I sound fucking weird but I have to.

His mom is a marathon runner and a very “traditional” (aka Republican) polish woman. Like both of his parents are polish immigrants so they have some very “traditional” views. (Traditional is the only nice way I can put it but y’all get what I mean) his extended family is pretty much the same way. I’ve been scrolling through pics of his family on like Facebook n insta and they are all pretty thin except for my bf and his brothers. To be fair his parents were never really around when he was small or when his brothers were small. Idk how tf his mom was a stay at home mom but somehow was never around to take care of her kids. Y’all can clearly tell that I do not like her at all. She is not a good mom nor a good person. My bf just started anti-anxiety meds and his mom tried to take them and dump them down the toilet bc “her sons aren’t little bitches”. He’s 22!!! Like what the fuck??? Anyways, I know for a fact that she’d judge the shit out of me if I stay at my current weight. Honestly she’s gonna judge the shit outta me if I’m fat or rail thin but if im thinner than her hahaha I win. My bf’s parents are already going through the beginnings of a messy divorce. They haven’t done any paperwork yet or whatever but you can just tell it’s coming. Basically his dad got tired of his mom spending all of the family’s income on trips she goes on by herself and marathons. She’s barely home and barely works. I honestly think she’s having an affair but I can’t prove it. It’s going to be really fuckin dicey when I visit in December and March. I need to get to 200 pounds by December. Once I do that I can get to 140 by March. If I really just don’t eat for 3 months straight I could possibly reach 110-120. Beautiful women get treated with a lot of respect and are given a lot of power in my bf’s family. If I can reach my UGW of 90 pounds while im in graduate school or when I live with my bf I’ll be basically unstoppable. I’ll be able to take care of my bf and his brothers. They will finally get the love and care they never got growing up. I know I can’t save the boys or fix them, but I can at least give them some peace of mind. I can show them what it’s like to have a woman genuinely care about them rather than treat them as a chore. Especially the youngest son. Poor boy is only 13 and his mom casted him to the way side when he was about 9 or 10. It just fills me with such rage to think a mother can simply abandon her kids. How are they not her entire world?? How does she not love them with every fiber of her being? I genuinely can’t understand how a mother can treat her children as chores. How the hell do I love my bf more than his own mother loves him?? Something tells me that when I visit him and his family in December there is gonna be hell to pay when I leave. I won’t be able to help myself when I dote on him. They’ll all see how affectionate I am and how much I adore him. The boys will watch in awe. I will show them all what a proper wife is. I’ll cook them delicious homemade meals. I’ll keep everything in the house clean and neat. I’ll always be ready to help and be glad to do so. I’ll smother my wonderful boyfriend in all the affection he could ever want. And most importantly I’ll be pretty, gentle, and kind. I’ll be in-tune with each of his needs so he doesn’t even have to tell me I just know. The week that I will be there will be the best week of their lives and I won’t accept anything less than that. I will make all of those boys feel loved or I’ll die trying. But first, I have to get skinny. I have to win. This is going to be a battle between alpha females and I will be the victor. There is no other option.

[yeomsobd]

To Someone Who Isn't You

"Should I wait for a little more?"

Aren't you having a state of realizing that you are someone who isn't really you? Checking your memories from a couple of months or years or so? You are being a stranger to yourself, knocking on your cognition… Is this really me? You are starting to eliminate persons whose only intention is to listen, knowing they will contribute nicely to help on what is killing inside your mind? Are you still having the awe to look at a mirror and observe…? Whispering to you- What happened to me? Where am I way back then?

The way you talk and the way you look are not unfamiliar at all. You may seem so clueless at your borrowed flesh. The crowd is obviously starting to suspect the change in you, yet you are still the one who is denying it. You are hell bounded and selfish; even though you are already egocentric, you have been tricked by yourself that you are really starting to change. Is this the personality available to trade you out when you lack courage or some self-respect? Are you starting to give up on your own war written in a prophecy that only you can lead your victory against this magus?

Things are happening, maybe because you have forgotten about love. You don't have this empathy anymore. You lose investing the trust in yourself that you can promote yourself from a dreamer to a dream. You forgot what really motivates you to dream. You started being mute to say anything. Your voice is getting thinner as your valor. You begin to disvalue your right to be happy.

To live a simpler life that is more peaceful in mind is everyone's aspiration. You are not alone in walking back at the recent you again. Your family and friends were always next to you. They were always looking at you, cheering for you. They are maybe quiet enough for you to say that they are your number one fan. Little did you know, the days that you are just a gnat in this society are the ones that make you big. You stand out really brightly. But you are just making complaints about yourself, disregarding the labor of the person who is really concerned about you and your plans. Really making you make an annoying change in you.

But you still don't know, maybe there are those someones who are lending their hand just to accompany you. You can be your best again. Repenting the past and making a blueprint for a better output of you. That hand? Take it. SOS is made to be rescued, and you have sent a distress call from a vast, violent sea. Everyone deserves to be helped. If you step closer, will you still hold to this ambiguous identity? Because the bottom line of these spoken words is you are really the best supervisor in yourself. Stop creating your own monsters to outstand you at those little thoughts for you to change. Every beast has their beauty in their lives… And every beast like us needs a beauty's help.

[vanderslanes]

POV: Conversations you have with Vander when he’s overly stressed out.

Vander:

Y/N: “You can’t carry the weight of every problem on your shoulders. I know you feel this overwhelming responsibility to protect the lanes and to protect our people, but you can’t hold yourself to these unrealistic expectations.”

He definitely get a little heated at first about it.

He’s the type to take the initial step in as a personal attack.

Vander: “Right, and what am I suppose to do then huh? Turn a blind eye to everything? Just let good people down because you think I’m not strong enough?”

You never said that he wasn’t strong enough. Drama queen of the lanes, forget wolf of the lanes.

Definitely comes from a place of self respect for him. He hates the question of his own strength and his own power.

He’d realize the unnecessary anger in his voice pretty quickly though .

You don’t even have to give him the look, he just knows he’s over reacting a tad.

He’d sigh and lower his head like he always does when he’s wrong.

You’d make him take a seat and gently put your hand over his arms.

Y/N: “it’s okay to need help, ya know. None of us expect you to carry the weight of the world on these shoulders”

Back rubs would soon follow. You’d rub his shoulders down listening as the man would sinfully moan grunt groan in response.

He’d put a hand on yours, glancing over his shoulder with softer eyes.

It’s a comfort to him to know you’re there for him even if he couldn’t find the words to talk about how stressed he was feeling.

He’d just give your hand a comforting squeeze and sit silently and let you work at his knots.

As soon as your done with your little message he fucks you. HARD. He takes his frustrations and nerves out in the bedroom handling them in a more productive way. He pounds your fucking body into the god damn bed until you’re shaking and begging.

It leads to some much needed hot sexual release.

BONUS: (someone I never speak of)

Silco:

You can always tell when he’s overly stressed because, his patience runs thinner with everyone. The crew, jinx, you. You’re all subject to be snapped at when he’s at a point like this.

Sevika practically begs you to lay the man or at least give him some fucking head do anything to pull him out of this mood.

You’d ambush the man when he was locked away in his office hiding from everyone.

Silco: “I’m not in the mood to be bothered right now. Whoever it is, leave.”

Obviously you ignore him and pull the chair from in front of his desk and sit down.

The nation of Zaun knows a very different Silco than the man you know. 

The Silco they know is the King Pin who toppled Vander’s entire hierarchy with ease.

The Silco YOU know is caring, gentle, patient….and when he’s acting like this? Stressed.

Y/N: “I will leave if you truly want me to, but I figured you may just need someone to talk to right now. Do you want to tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours?”

There’s a relaxed sigh that gets pushed through the air of the room from him.

Silco: “I wouldn’t know where to start…”

He’d pinch the bridge of his nose and clench his eyes.

You could see he was really having a hard time.

You’d pour him a drink and just rub at his shoulders from behind.

Y/N: “well, then start from the beginning. It may shock you but I’m a really good listener”

He’d give a half laugh and slam his drink before laying into you.

He tells you everything on his mind

Literally everything

Nothing is off the table.

He has a good vent session and ends it by pulling you down into his lap.

You can tell he’s feeling better because his tone makes a 180 real damn fast.

Before you know it the man’s practically trying to fuck you over his desk.

He does fuck you over his desk. Guess Sevika was right. He did just need a good fuck.

[chewiedon]

hello! could i maybe request a sort-of follow up to ur toxic traits genshin post? maybe something where g/n reader breaks up with them and they’re (genshin) miserable over it? would love to see!

aaaa ofc ofc !! i worked on this longer than i probably needed to lol. i couldn’t make all of them, so i just put the top three :D

DILUC

You had told him right after Angel’s Share had closed and the tavern was empty besides you two.

His first thought when you told him you wanted to end it was that it was a joke.

After a long conversation with him about it, the only emotion coursing through his veins was hot and burning rage.

You, breaking up with HIM? It’s the biggest insult to him and his ego and pride had taken a swan dive off of the summit.

He tried his best to be reasonable and not get violent, but as soon as you had raised your voice he backhanded you right across the cheek.

After the breakup he had assumed you’d come crawling back. But you didn’t.

Regrettably, he had threatened to blackmail you. Threatening to leak all your precious little secrets, however none of them were directly illegal. Just embarrassing, nothing that’ll get you into much trouble.

Somehow he went from threats to straight up obsession, taking whatever remnants he could find of you. If you drank out of a certain cup at his tavern, he’d drink from it too. Diluc’s obsessed with the idea of ‘indirectly kissing’ ever since the breakup.

_____

“You’re being delusional, (Y/N). You don’t want to leave, you just feel pressured to.” Diluc’s voice was low.

You huffed, in awe almost, “Delusional? No. You don’t know when to get off your high horse and I’m sick of it. I thought you might have a change in heart but you’re too stubborn to see mistakes, especially in yourself.”

You had tried your best to keep your voice level to a minimum, not wanting to yell at him. Diluc set his hands on to the counter, and after a brief moment of silence he slammed his fists on to the wooden surface making you jolt. You could hear the glass bottles around you almost begin to shatter at the sudden shake.

“You’re being unreasonable!” Diluc started, “I’ve done so much for you just to leave me high and dry… Am I just some wallet to you (Y/N)?”

Your heart rate began to race, hoping to the bottom of your heart he wouldn’t hurt you. Quickly, you stood up and walked towards the exit.

“No, I loved you. For a long time, but not enough to deal with your bullshit.”

KAEYA

Plays it cool, thinking it’s some kind of prank or something like that.

After a while, he starts to realize you’re being serious and something inside him snaps.

“I was just kidding, princess! You know that right? I’d never do anything to deliberately hurt you, I’m not like that!”

He refuses to let you go, even after you’ve ended the relationship he still tells people you two are still dating.

“(Y/N)’s just throwing a little tantrum, nothing serious.”

_____

You stormed into Kaeya’s office, slamming the door behind you. Kaeya was sitting on his desk, his left leg over his right skimming through a book that rested on his lap. His attention gliding over from the text to you, slowly.

“You’re a real fucking riot you know that? I told you I was sick of your shit and now you’re clinging on to me like a piece of gum on to the bottom of my shoe,” you hissed, malice laced in your tone, “Stop playing like I’m the bad guy, grow a pair and move on.”

Kaeya’s cocky tone sounded like nails on a chalkboard to you, “Baby, you know you can’t get rid of me just like that, right?” he demonstrated with a snap of his fingers. “It’s cute watching you try though-”

“Keep this shit up and I’m quitting, the knights have opened up more than enough opportunities for me. I stayed here because a part of me wanted to hang on to you, even though our relationship has ended.” You emphasized the last part.

A quick click of his tongue and his smirk faded.

“You know what I’m tired of? The miscommunication, I don’t think you understood when I said you were mine.”

A moment of silence before the clicking of his office door filled the walls.

“I’m not some toy you can choose when, and when you can't play with.”

Another loud slam from you as you had shut the door on the way out, with hopes you’d never have to step into that horrid room ever again.

ALBEDO

His work was precious to him, and you respected that as much as you could.

You only had so much patience, and each of his projects were running it thinner by the day.

Not to mention how much time he spent with Sucrose alone, and whenever you brought it up to him or Sucrose herself the both of them seemed speechless.

When he came back to Mondstadt briefly to go over some plans with Sucrose, and you had got Jean to squeeze in some time to have a small conversation with Albedo himself.

“Darling,” he said as he embraced you, his limbs seemingly tired, “I missed you so much, why are you here?”

After a careful explanation his face seemed unreadable, disbelief was all over his features. His eyes fell onto the floor while his throat swelled up.

You had to leave with a very heavy heart and an even heavier burden of guilt.

Albedo comes to your formerly shared home almost nightly, to grovel at your feet begging you to take him back. Spewing inaudible apologies.

_____

“I’m so sorry,” you shifted your body away, about to exit the knights’ headquarters.

“Wait!” Albedo’s voice echoed through the halls, stopping you in your tracks.

“Please don’t go, I’ll do anything but please don’t go… I can’t do any of this without you. I’ll work less, I’ll do anything for you, I promise-!” he tripped over his own feet, Sucrose rushing to his side.

“No! Don’t leave me! You’re all I have left-!” His cries were silenced at the quiet slam of the door closing.

Your figure disappearing from his view.

[sprnklersplashes]

fic based on the theory that sarah fier was the one to bring ziggy back, not nick/the devil (I thought this was gonna be much shorter than it is oops)

“Just let my sister live.” 

The voice comes to her, faded, far away, but she hears it. Hears it because someone called out to her, which no-one has done in centuries, except to make fun of her. To mock her, smear her as the with they call think she is. But not this one. This one doesn’t mock her. She begs her.

“Just let my sister live!”

The picture comes into focus in front of Sarah’s eyes, as if it’s the first thing she sees waking up. Two girls, one small with flame coloured hair, one taller and covered in dirt, clutching Sarah’s own hand. Her throat is raw from screaming, her legs weak from running. Sarah can feel it in her spirit, the girl’s hand on the bone sharing her feelings with her. Weak, exhausted, and so, so scared. Not for her, but for the girl beside her, who turns helplessly in all directions.

It’s then Sarah realises the girls aren’t alone. Coming at them from all sides are... them. The people the Goodes have cursed. Cold skin, lifeless eyes, blackened hearts. Her own heart breaks when she sees them, her stomach twisting at the injustice.

William. Harry. Ruby. And now Thomas, the latest soul to be stolen by the Goodes. 

She tried. It’s been so long since someone found her hand. She tried to show them what Solomon had done those years ago, her promise bound to her bones, but it was for nothing. Her hand is small, her body incomplete, and so whatever powers she’s managed to gain here are feeble, and no match for the Goodes and their deals. They’re ahead of her, again, and she can’t do anything to stop them. Can’t stop as the older girl, Cindy, her sister calls her, runs towards what was Thomas Slater, can’t save the red-haired girl from the knife that pierces her gut. She watches, forces herself to watch, as their respective killers hit them again and again. Knife in the side, axe in the chest. The picture grows stronger as the girls’ breaths grow weaker, the veil between this life and theirs growing thinner. Sarah feels grass beneath her bare feet, the sound of the young girl’s scream attacking her ears. Of course. Life. Death. They’re such strange concepts, and soon the girls will be making the same journey she did. At the hands of the Goodes.

And she will welcome them, and is prepared they will hate her.

The young girl moans, and Sarah can feel her life ebbing away. She may be the first to go. So young, both so young. Her sister’s body shakes of its own accord as the axe hits her again, scarlet blood spurting from her mouth, staining her pretty face.

No, she screams, but her words are a mere breeze. She runs at Thomas, runs at Harry, to try to hold them back, but she is nothing. If they feel anything, they feel a slight chill, and it does nothing to them. She falls to the ground, her limbs aching from this one attempt, and failure creeps up on her again. She can’t save them. She can’t save anyone.

“Nothing will pull us apart,” Cindy promises her sister just before the axe hits her chest again.

“Never...” The young girl gasps. “Again.” The knife hits her side once more, then a final time. Her chest stammers, flutters, and Sarah watches the life flee her body.

It’s over. They’re over.

The killers disappear, vanishing back to the underground cave, their souls trapped until they’re needed again. And the girls lie on the grass, their hands reaching out to each other, never to touch in this life. 

Sarah sits and waits to greet them.

Until someone else comes running in. He runs right through her, and she feels the darkness in his blood immediately. A Goode. One who has already taken on his family’s legacy. She retches at the sight of him, although nothing comes out. This is the boy, the man, who sold Thomas Slater. Whose hands are stained with the blood of all those innocents. And who now, leans over the corpse of his victim, and begs her not to die.

The irony is enough to make Sarah smile.

“Ziggy? Ziggy don’t die on me, okay?” he begs, clutching her cold face in his hands. Sarah’s jaw clenches. She knows love when she hears it. The Goodes are monsters, but they are human, and humans love. But this love isn’t pure, not like her and Hannah. There’s a sting to it, in his desire

“What’s going on?”

Sarah turns, her blood cold at the sound of the voice. The smaller girl, Ziggy, stands before her, blinking blearily as if half asleep. It’s common for those who just crossed over, especially if it was before their time. Sarah’s experienced far more of that then she’d have liked to. It will take minutes, hours for young Ziggy to fully cross over.

Let my sister live! Cindy’s voice echoes in Sarah’s mind, her plea to her. She turns back around, sees Nick still desperately trying to save her, sending out a plea of his own, not to God. Somewhere, wherever he is, the Devil is no doubt pondering his wish, whether he will let Ziggy go or keep her blood for himself.

“No.” Her voice is small, rusty from disuse, but it’s strong, and she shouts again “No!”. She tilts her head to the sky and screams at it, screams at the Goodes and the Devil, “You will not have her! You will not have her!”

The sky opens up, rain falling right through her. If it is the Devil’s reply, she laughs at it, and she grabs young Ziggy by the arm. Her eyes still flutter, her gaze unfocussed, her form not fully here, as if sketched in in pencil. There is still time, if she acts fast.

“Wh-what?”

“They will not have you,” she tells Ziggy, even if she can’t hear her. “Your sister begged for you to live, and live you shall.”

She pulls her towards her body, where Nick Goode still tries to breathe life into her. It’s just steps away, but it feels like miles, her legs shaking with each move she makes. The Devi holds her back, unwilling to let go of his prize. Another dead Shadysider to add to his collection. Another innocent soul, demed unworthy by those in power. He wraps his arms around her, pulls them both away from her body, refusing to let his prize go.

“Not... today,” she pants. Her hand tightens around Ziggy, who blinks in confusion. She’s still not here, she still has time. Cindy’s begging rings in her ears, rings all around them. 

Just let my sister live!

“Not. Today.” She pulls herself and Ziggy the last few steps, drags her until she is beside her body. Her own will pulls the two of them forward, the centuries of hurt burning like a furnace, but it’s something else, one key ingredient that pushes her over the edge. A sister’s love, so pure and steadfast, that it holds the veil back just those seconds more. She can’t see the Devil, but she knows he is here, and she snarls at him. “Not. Her!”

She turns to Ziggy, watches the girl’s eyes open and close slowly, her lips trying clumsily to speak. She won’t remember this at all, and Sarah is glad of it. God only knows what will become of her for now, but she’s fulfilled her promise to her sister.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and she pushes her back across.

Just before she disappears again, she sees her eyes open, her pained gasps for air. She can’t be sure if she did the right thing, saving her. Some say surviving a tragedy is worse than dying in it. She wouldn’t know. All she knows is the Devil has one less person’s blood to feed on now, but the curse remains still.

A half-victory.

“Where am I?” Sarah turns, slowly, and isn’t surprised to see Cindy behind her. She wears the same clothes she died in, but now free from blood and, whatever it was she was covered in. Sarah suspects she doesn’t want to know. She looks up at her, eyes wide and terrified, like an animal cornered by a hunter. “Who are you?”

“My name is Sarah,” she begins, but the words stick in her throat. She’s had enough of explaining herself, and only being believed half the time. Had enough of people sapping her, screaming at her, cursing her, for something she never did. “Sarah Miller.”

“Oh. Um, hi.” The young girl looks at herself, looks at the limbo surrounding them. Realisation dawns on her face, memory after memory coming back to her, and she drops to the floor, her hands pressed to her mouth to hold back her scream.

“Am I... dead?” she asks, finally. Sarah only nods and kneels beside her. She listens to Cindy’s muffled sobs, the slowly building shrieks of agony, and she lets her do what she needs before showing her where to go. It’s easy to see where this girl will end up, and at least she’ll have some peace.

“My... my sister?” she asks. “Where-where’s my sister?”

“She’s alive,” Sarah tells her. Cindy goes weak with relief, falling into Sarah’s arms and sobbing, muttering “Ziggy’s alive” under her breath. 

Sarah wishes she can do more. Wishes she could say Ziggy will be okay, that Shayside will be okay, that this whole horrible saga is finally over. But she can’t. Because the Goodes were too powerful, again, and even as her hand tightens on them, theirs does on Shadyside. All Sarah can do is hold Cindy until they go to where they need to go, and hopes that the next time someone finds her, she can do more.

Hopes that one day, she can show them what was done.

[link4eva]

Kiro’s Hidden Light Date Translation [CN]

Hi, everyone! Thanks so much for your patience! I really appreciate it 💛

Just a couple of things before you begin reading. I don’t actually know any Chinese so this translation was done through the power of Google Translate. A huge shout-out to @keliosyfan​ for all the help with this translation and for also listening to me crying and screaming as I translated this date!  Sorry about your ears 😅

There is a call that comes before the date which I’ll link here!

This translation contains spoilers for a date that has not yet been released to the ENG server. If you wish to not be spoiled, please don’t look below the cut.

Hope you enjoy~ 💛

*Spoilers for future content below!*

[First Part]

In the Temple of the Gods, the new gods gathered here for the first weekly meeting since taking office.

I was holding a thin report, standing at the end of the reporting line--

As the first star god in the God Realm, my job is too simple compared to other gods.

After the sun sets, I wake up the sleeping stars in the galaxy. This is my job.

Lord God: It’s your turn, God of Day and Night

The voice of the Lord God rang above the temple, and the man who was summoned walked slowly to the center of the hall.

???: Lord God, I have a request…. 

A bitter feeling poured in, I lowered my head and tried not to look at the back that seemed to have become thinner--

The God of Day and Night, Kiro.

(Flashback)

I met him at the New God Training Camp years ago.

Every new god must learn about their responsibilities here, and then use their performance to assign the appropriate position.

Priest: The subsequent training is a pair of two, the grouping rules are very simple.

Priest: There are two of each kind of pastry on this long table, and two people who have the same one will automatically be matched.

I scanned the big circle with interest and my eyes landed on a pastry that looked tasty.

Just when I was about to pick it up, a slender hand stretched out at the same time.

I looked up and saw a handsome man standing beside me with a bright smile on his pale face, his eyes brilliant and pure.

Priest: After you choose, you can take the pastry and find your partner.

Kiro: It seems that we’ve already completed the next step. *Changed some wording* 

Kiro: Hello, my name is Kiro.

MC: H-hello, I am MC.

At that time, I blushed and my heart was beating very fast. Maybe it was because his smile was too gorgeous.

Since then, we have become good partners who talk about everything.

We climbed the wall and skipped class together, and set off the fireworks behind the mountain under the stars to share every day with each other after agreeing to become true gods.

Kiro: But….I hope we can stay together and become gods who are sincerely respected by people. 

My heart was beating rapidly at his sincere tone, and I suddenly realized that my feelings for him were more than just platonic. *Changed some wording*

I want to be with him all the time and share with him all the beautiful things in the world--

Kiro thinks the same way, right? Otherwise, he wouldn’t make the promise of “always being together”. 

Our feelings must be the same.

With this in mind, until the graduation ceremony of the new gods a week ago, the Lord God announced the new god’s proposed deity.

Lord God: ….Finally, it is proposed that Kiro is the God of the Sun and MC is the God of Night.

I happily accepted the proposal knowing that in the God realm, the God of Day and the God of Night will be regarded as an official pair.

And every day and night, they will accompany each other and will be bound together forever.  *Changed some wording*

However, I forgot to confirm Kiro’s thoughts and didn’t even glance at his expression after hearing the proposed order.

I only remember that I was happily drunk and took his hand while talking a lot.

MC: I’m so glad!

MC: When I become the God of Night, I will give you the brightest star!

MC: And, I….

I also said a lot of nonsense. As for the content of the nonsense, it doesn’t matter anymore.

The important thing is that Kiro saw the Lord God in private on the second day, which caused the Lord God to change the original plan of the gods in the subsequent ceremony of the gods.

Lord God: Starting today, Kiro alone will be the God of Day and Night, and MC will become the first star god.

MC: Did you ask the Lord God to change the proposed deity position?

After the ceremony, I asked Kiro outside the temple gate, and he nodded silently.

MC: Why?

Kiro: I….

Seeing his hesitant expression, I understood in an instant--

He is unwilling.

He would rather bear the weight of the power of two gods alone than to get involved with me anymore.

I forgot how that day went on. I just felt that I was in an emotional, shameful and sullen mood ever since.

Later, Kiro would come to me almost every day, probably because he wanted to continue to be friends with me. However, I couldn’t deal with this mood of mine, so I constantly avoided him.

Kiro: ….Therefore, I need to familiarize myself with the work of the Star God.

MC: ?

After looking back, I realized that Kiro had turned his head and his eyes met my own.

All the gods are looking at me, and the God of Prophecy with whom I have a good relationship with winked at me.

Kiro: Would you like to spend a day with me, Star God? 

[Second Part]

After walking out of the temple, I figured out what happened.

In order to confirm the position of the moon and stars, Kiro asked the Lord God to spend a day with me and get acquainted with each other’s work.

I stood at the door of the temple with a blank stare, not understanding why he wanted to do this.

Does he really want to get involved with me? Or is it just for work? But why do we have to spend a day together if we want to allocate the moon and the stars reasonably?

I couldn’t understand it for a while, but I also couldn’t violate the Lord God’s order, so I had to stand outside the temple gate and wait for Kiro to drive the solar cart to pick me up.

His first task every day is to drive a solar cart to fill the earth with sunlight.

Even though I kept avoiding him, I often belittled myself for being useless, and at the same time asked the God of Prophecy about the situation.

During the day, he was busy dealing with various official affairs, and at night, he stayed alone in the Temple of Sun and Moon, without ever taking a step outside of the temple.

I have been thinking about all the different reasons, but this seems to be Kiro’s secret.  Even if the God of Prophecy wanted to tell me, she couldn’t speak.

??: Star God~ Congratulations~

Following the voice, the God of Prophecy walked towards me with a grandiose expression on her face.

MC: Congratulations?

God of Prophecy: Isn’t it worthy of congratulations to spend a day with someone you like?

I quickly covered her mouth and looked around nervously.

This woman can be said to be the god with the most amount of gossip amongst the gods, but she really knows all the secrets of the world. *Changed some wording*

Due to the divine order, she couldn’t tell the secret to anyone, so she often wanted to gossip about others but to no avail, and finally scratched her head in a hurry.

MC: If you talk nonsense, I will destroy your temple!

God of Prophecy: Ok, ok, don’t destroy my temple. You can destroy the gift I gave you instead.

Seeing that I didn’t respond much, she was a little confused.

God of Prophecy: You really haven’t opened the secret scroll I gave you?

God of Prophecy: As long as you open the scroll with your own hands, you can see the secret you want to know the most.

MC: ….I have no secrets that I want to know.

God of Prophecy: Then return it to me!

MC: I put it under the rock next to the galaxy. You gave it to me, how I use it is my own business.

God of Prophecy: You….

The sound of horse hooves interrupted our conversation, and Kiro stopped slowly in front of us while driving a solar chariot pulled by a horse.

Kiro: Have you been waiting long, Star God? *Changed some wording*

God of Prophecy: Even if you made her wait for you for a hundred thousand years, it still wouldn’t be too long for her….

MC: Don’t listen to her nonsense.

I hurriedly interrupted her and immediately climbed into the chariot.

(Cut to the sky)

Kiro chuckled softly. He raised his whip and the horse whinnied and soared into the blue sky.

The daylight poured out from the chariot, the golden morning light flowed slowly like a river, tinting the colour of the sky a little bit golden.

Kiro didn’t seem to intend to return until the daylight dyed the sky.

After smooth sailing, the solar chariot stopped on a lotus pond in the Valley of Spirits.

(Cut to Valley of Spirits) 

When he got out of the chariot, the flowers and plants stretched out to reach wherever he passed. The elves woke up from their slumber and surrounded him immediately as if saying hello.

Kiro: This is where I rest. I will come here every day after sunrise. 

MC: Are we not checking the positions of the moon and stars….

Before I finished my question, a white deer appeared.

Its breathing was laboured. It then bowed its head and rubbed Kiro’s hand, its white belly bulging. *Changed some wording*

MC: Is it sick?

Kiro looked at it thoughtfully for a while and lightly stroked its stomach.

Kiro: I think it knows that I will be here every day and come to me for help.

Kiro: It seems that it will become a mother today!

I opened my mouth wide in surprise.

MC: Do you still care about this kind of thing?

Kiro: You have to know a little about everything.

He walked to the side of the deer and put his palms close to its body. Its original anxious breathing was slightly calmer. 

He slowly squatted down, lying his body softly on top. 

Kiro: Don’t be afraid, we will stay with you.

He stroked the deer’s belly gently as if helping it to relieve the pain.

The broad palm of his hand moved lower, and the fine fur was peeking between his fingers.

The soft sunlight formed a hazy mist on the lotus pond.

The deer’s expression gradually eased and its stomach began to rise and fall softly.

Kiro: Like delivering sunlight, what I am doing now is also part of the work of Apollo. 

Kiro: I need to witness the rebirth of everything with my own eyes.

Kiro: The existence of life is meaningful, and their blooming will bring beautiful colours to the world.

His voice was very soft, the dazzling sunlight was quietly reflected in his eyes, a clear and profound memory spread out in my mind.

(Flashback)

Not long after we entered the training camp, the priest was telling the theory of “God is equal to all beings”.

Kiro sat beside me, frowned and listened for a long time, then shook his head slightly.

Priest: Kiro, do you have any different opinions?

Kiro: Priest, can God really be equal to all beings? 

Priest: Why do you ask?

Kiro: Because you said before that God loves all beings.

Priest: God does love all beings, why can’t all beings be equal?

Kiro: Suppose a poor mother who is committed to goodness steals rice from a robber’s house for the child in her womb.

Kiro: The robber brought the mother to ask God if she had stolen rice.

Kiro: If God answers yes, the robber will kill the mother. If God answers no, he will let the robber lose his property for no reason.

Kiro: At this time, what should God’s answer be; yes or no?

Priest: If it were you, what would you answer?

The priest smiled and turned the question back around. Kiro stuck out his tongue and scratched his head embarrassedly.

Kiro: I am afraid I cannot achieve absolute “equality”. 

Kiro: I don’t think that God is heartless.

Kiro: As long as there is love in the heart, it will always be biased towards the other at a certain time.

(Flashback ends)

Leaning to the other side….I slowly squatted down and gently stroked Mother Deer’s head.

At the end of that class, the priest did not judge Kiro’s right or wrong. As he said, Kiro always loved the world in his heart.

He will look down at the earth intently and affectionately when the daylight is falling, and comfort for the mother deer who is waiting to give birth.

He was still as bright and dazzling as I remembered him, illuminating everything around him.

I have no stand because of his rejection, his love just happens to be unbiased to me.

But….

MC: Why did you bring me here and tell me this?

I couldn’t help but utter the doubt in my heart. He raised his eyes, and the corners of his mouth rose into a nice arc.

Kiro: Didn’t we make an agreement?

Kiro: That we would share every day with each other. 

I swallowed and hesitated.

MC: So, you told the Lord God that we should be familiar with each other’s work….

Kiro: That’s deceptive.

Kiro: Sorry, I lied.

Kiro: If you don’t do that, I won't know when I will see you.

Kiro: You’ve been avoiding me…and I really miss you so much. 

[Third Part]

My eyes suddenly widened and my heartbeat gradually accelerated uncontrollably.

The tenderness in his voice was so profound and I was plunged into chaos.

MC: Why….

Why did you refuse to become the God of Day and Night with me, yet you still say you miss me?

Mother Deer suddenly squirmed and interrupted my thoughts.

It twitched lightly. After a while, a small white deer was lying behind it with closed eyes.

Kiro stood up with a smile, his eyes bright and pure.

Kiro: Let’s go, there’s one more interesting thing I want to share with you. 

(Cut to the city)

Stepping into the city-state in the Valley of Elves, I fell in love with this lively scene at first glance.

All kinds of shops are displayed on both sides and elves who are performing shuttle through the valley.

Kiro: Today is the traditional festival of the elves, the Sunshine Festival. 

Kiro: In order to thank God for giving them daylight, they would dance at the assembly on this day each year.

A burst of drums sounded suddenly, and the elves stopped their movements altogether.

They formed a circle, accompanied by an ensemble of flutes and danced together without a care in the world.

The lively atmosphere made me forget my complex emotions for a while. I looked around and inadvertently stared at a majestic male elf for a moment.

The elf smiled sweetly at me, then waved at me exaggeratedly.

Are the elves really passionate? This is much cuter than the gods back in the God Realm. *Changed some wording*

I also raised my hand and waved at him vigorously. He was stunned and then walked straight towards me.

As he walked, he took out a pendant necklace with a sun pattern from his arms.

MC: ?

In my confusion, my sight was suddenly blocked by a chest. I raised my head to meet Kiro’s eyes.

Just as I was about to ask him what he was about to do, he opened his palms and out came a dazzling beam of sunlight.

He folded the beam into a beautiful necklace and quickly put it on my neck.

Then, as if inadvertently, he turned slightly so that the elf could clearly see my sun necklace.

The elf immediately stopped and retreated with a hurt face. I blinked confusedly.

MC: What’s wrong?

Kiro: Today, if you give jewelry with sun elements to others, it means that they are….dance partners.

Kiro leaned over, gently holding out one hand in front of me.

Kiro: Beautiful goddess, can I invite you to dance? 

MC: Forget it….

Kiro: If not, there’a a blood-sucking monster in the tower over there. *So I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea what he’s saying here. GT gave me, “Place an order at the Fairy Ball. There’s a World of Warcraft Tower.” 😅😂*

MC: ….Is that a lie?

Before I could refuse, he naturally took my hand. The familiar temperature made me shrink back a little unconsciously, but he held me tighter.

His arm was firm, and the hot breath immediately hit me. A crimson blush made its way to the tips of my ears, and my heart was beating violently.

MC: Did you say…. you thought about me sincerely?

My chaotic brain lost the ability to think, and I actually said what I felt aloud.

MC: It doesn’t matter if you don’t answer! 

Kiro: As sincere as I can be. *Changed some wording* 

I suddenly raised my head and looked into his eyes, pure sincerity seemed to be revealed in those blue eyes.

The rhythm of the music became more and more lively, Kiro motioned to me to follow in his footsteps, leading me in circles on the dance floor to his heart’s content.

When the music came to an end, everyone suddenly surrounded Kiro and me in the middle of the valley.

An elderly elf walked through the crowd, and the elf made a respectful gesture, calling himself the “patriarch” respectfully.

Kiro and I also gestured to him politely. He walked over and patted Kiro’s shoulder with relief.

Patriarch: I declare that they are the most unique couple for this year’s dance party!

MC: Pair??

I hurriedly let go of Kiro’s hand.

MC: No, we are not a pair!

Patriarch: What? Are you really not a couple?

The elven patriarch seemed to be a little confused, but he replied with a clear expression.

Patriarch: This child is quite silly--, you are obviously together! *Changed some wording*

I raised my voice anxiously.

MC: I said, We. Are. Not! *Changed some wording*

Patriarch: What? -You said you are?? *Changed some wording*

He smiled even more.

Patriarch: Your bond is so strong, bless you, my child.

MC: I….

Patriarch: He gave you the most beautiful sunshine jewel, which means that you are in love with each other, and your dancing is also perfect.

MC: Perfect? Our dancing?

I looked at Kiro abruptly who was smiling, his eyes were mottled with light and dark. *Changed some wording*

MC: You, you knew everything?

Kiro: Well, I know the dance of love and harmony. 

MC: ….Is it just this?

I raised my hand and waved an enchantment to isolate ourselves from the noises surrounding us so I could let out the grievances in my heart.

MC: Do you still know why I avoided you these days and how I felt?

He didn’t say anything but just lowered his eyes.

It turned out that he really did know, but….he pretended that nothing happened. Even after giving me sunshine jewelry and dancing with me... 

I didn’t understand what he was thinking, unwilling and shameful emotions swept through my heart, and I clenched my hand into a fist.

MC: You clearly refused to let me be the Night God, and refused to be with me for a lifetime. Why do you want to dance with me?

He lifted his eyes which were flashing with emotions I couldn’t understand.

Kiro: Can I answer this question for you tomorrow? 

Kiro: It’s getting dark, let’s go back.

MC: Why can’t you make it clear today? I’m not sure if I will have the courage to listen to the answers tomorrow.

I took a step back angrily and a monster approached the elf who wanted to give me jewelry. 

He stood behind the elf with a weird expression. In the next second, he reached out and held the elf in front of him, opening his mouth wide to reveal horrible fangs.

MC: Monster!

I subconsciously retracted the enchantment and raised my hand to send a sharp divine power to the monster. 

He tried to escape, but he was shot in the shoulder by a golden arrow in the next second.

The elves suddenly scattered, the monster latched onto the elf’s shoulders and ran to the depths of the valley.

I looked in the direction from which the arrow came, Kiro was holding a golden bow and arrow. He nodded to me and ran in the direction where the monster escaped.

(Scene change)

In the outskirts of wildflowers, Kiro and I surrounded the monster.

Seeing that he had no way of retreating, the monster slammed into Kiro who was closer to him.

Kiro stood, unmoving, and slowly raised a hand.

The last gleam of the afterglow was hidden behind the thick clouds, and the sky was completely dark.

At that moment when the monster was about to attack Kiro, a brilliant beam of silver light overflowed from Kiro’s palm.

The light gradually enveloped them, dyeing Kiro’s blonde hair silver, and under the light, the beast turned into ashes!

MC: What happened….?

Kiro looked at me and took a step back. The flowers and plants at his feet turned into dust in the blink of an eye following his movements.

I took a deep breath and stared at his feet. He seemed to notice, looking at me with a helpless expression.

??: It’s dark, let’s go back. 

His vague response made me feel a little flustered. The answer is there: It gradually became clear in my heart, and my fingertips started to feel cold.

He must be hiding something from me.

I wanted to get close to him, but he backed away in a panic, and I had to stop.

MC: You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?

He lowered his head, his trembling eyelashes cast a shadow on his eyes; full of emotions and secrets.

God of Prophecy: Do you have any secrets you want to know?

The words of the God of Prophecy rang out in my mind, and my heart throbbed.

MC: If you won’t tell me, I have a way of finding out.

[Fourth Part]

Regardless of Kiro’s surprised look, I turned around and ran back to Galaxy.

Taking out the picture scroll under the big rock, I hurriedly opened it, but there was nothing on it.

I got closer but felt a force rushing out of the transparent vortex that had appeared out of thin air.

There was a painful sensation of my body being pulled in. Before I could use any divine power, I was dragged into the scroll by the vortex abruptly.

(Flashback)

Opening my eyes again, I found myself at the doors of the temples.

The majestic palace was deserted, and the voice of someone talking came from the hall. I turned my head towards the sound and saw Kiro above the hall.

Am I….in the picture scroll?

Kiro: I discovered a secret in the book, and I have come to ask you to verify it. 

Kiro’s sudden voice interrupted my thoughts. He lowered his head and stood before the Lord God in the lowest possible position.

Kiro: Legend has it that every night the Night God will be cursed by the night, and the Night God will destroy all the living beings and things around him.

Kiro: Many night gods were unable to endure the desolation around them all day long, and eventually came to their own destruction.

Kiro: May I ask the Lord God, is this true?

Lord God: This is the fate of the night god.

Lord God: I let the sun gods accompany the night gods each time, just to try and heal them with the sun god’s divine power, but the effect is minimal.

Kiro took a deep breath, his hands trembled slightly.

Kiro: Please, Lord God….exchange the positions of me and MC.

Lord God: I have already issued a draft order yesterday. Are you sure you want to change it?

Kiro lowered his eyes, wondering what he was thinking. After a while, he raised his head firmly.

Kiro: Then please let me be the god of the sun and the moon. 

Kiro: I promise you that no matter what happens, I will not destroy myself.

The Lord God’s expression became a little hesitant thinking over Kiro’s proposal.

Lord God: Are you sure that you will live forever as the god of night and never self-destruct?

Kiro: I am sure.

The Lord God was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his slow and flat tone seemed to be putting a curse on the gods.

Lord God: From now on, you are the sun god Kiro, witnessing the rebirth of all things.

Lord God: You are also the night god Helios, all darkness and death surround you.

Lord God: You will bear the curse of darkness on her behalf, struggling between light and darkness forever, and you must not give up.

There was a tingling pain in my heart and I took a couple of steps back….it turned out that everything he did was for me.

Time and space changed again, and I arrived at the drunken night of the graduation ceremony.

(Flashback)

I watched myself leaning against Kiro’s arm, staring up at him. 

MC: I’m so glad!

MC: When I become the God of Night, I will give you the brightest star!

MC: Also….we will be like sun gods and the night gods before!

Accompanied for life, forever bound together.

—This is the reason why I dare not look at the scroll for too long. After I finished speaking, I fell into a deep sleep.

And the secret I wanted to know most before was Kiro’s response after I confessed.

I didn’t dare open the scroll, I was afraid of hearing his rejection with my own ears.

Unconsciously holding my breath, I saw his eyes so full of tenderness, as if looking upon the most precious treasure in the world. After a long time, he lowered his head slightly.

The moment our lips touched, a cold liquid dripped on my cheeks.

Kiro: We will. 

Kiro: I also want to be with you forever and ever, together.

My nose scrunched up, and I stepped forward subconsciously, but the dazzling light came in an instant.

(Flashback ends)

The palm of my hand was held by a cold one, and when I opened my eyes, I returned to the galaxy.

I looked down at the hand that was holding mine. The broad hand was soft yet powerful as if it would protect me from all dangers.

Looking up from my arm, I look up at the person coming--

Helios sat next to me, looking at me worriedly. Because of his approach, the shoots that had just emerged from the moist soil immediately lost their lustre of life.

The stars in the pond of the galaxy were extremely dim, and the faint starlight reflected on Helios’ profile, making his face even more gloomy.

As if sensing my gaze, Helios instantly retracted his hand, got up immediately, and stood far away from me.

Helios: You didn’t look well back at the Sunshine Festival, so I chased after you…. 

Helios: Are you okay?

MC: I’m fine….

But what about you?

I took a few steps towards him, trying to clearly see the emotions in his eyes, but the warmth of them blurred everything in front of me.

How can Kiro, who has always treated people kindly, face all the barrenness and devastation that he causes after each night?

I don’t know anything about it, I just avoid him and don’t allow him to explain.

Feelings of regret and guilt hit my heart, and I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say.

His eyes avoided mine as if he didn’t want me to see him like this.

Helios: If you are okay, I will leave first. 

I hurriedly took his hand, anxiously trying to keep him from leaving.

MC: Didn’t we want to share this day?

MC: The day isn’t over yet, and I haven’t shared everything about me with you.

Worried that he would refuse, I took the initiative to drag him to the galaxy. He stood far away, his hands and feet somewhat cemented.

Helios: I’m afraid my power will destroy your stars.

That bitter feeling came up again, I ignored it and took his hand gently, and a star was raised in the galaxy.

MC: No, I am here. 

He seemed a little scared, his hands trembling imperceptibly.

I tried my best to force a smile, wrap his palm in mine, infusing a supernatural power.

The stars lit up instantly, shining with golden lights, just like the sunlight rising from us.

Something in his eyes seemed to kindle, and he stared at the stars in his hands unblinkingly, as if he did not dare to use a trace of strength.

Seeing him so cautious, with nerves tingling, I took a deep breath.

MC: I’m very sorry.

MC: I didn’t know anything about this earlier, and I kept doubting you.

Helios: I shouldn’t hide from you, and I never want to hide from you.

Helios: It’s just that….I didn’t know what to say.

Helios: I don’t want to make you feel guilty.

MC: I won’t be like that again in the future.

MC: But please let me stay by your side every night like I am now, and accompany you through the most difficult moments of the day.

Helios froze for a moment, his cold eyes trembled lightly as if an unconcealable emotion was about to come out.

Helios: Don’t you think…. I am a very bad night god?

MC: No, your intention was never that way.

MC: You will look at each life tenderly, respecting the meaning of their existence.

MC: You took my place and endured all the darkness for me, willing to fall between light and darkness every day.

MC: You are the most competent, gentle, and best god I have ever seen.

I slowly put my forehead against his and watched his eyes gradually shine brightly.

MC: So, if it’s not too late for you, I want to honour my promise that night to you.

I pressed my hand to the back of his hand holding the star.

MC: I want to give this brightest star to you.

MC: This is the first thing I wanted to do after becoming a star god.

A warm smile overflowed from the corner of his lips, and the star in his palm was close to his heart.

Helios: I will accept it wholeheartedly. *Changed some wording* 

MC: I still have a lot of things I want to do with you and a lot of things I want to say to you, is that okay?

He looked at me deeply for a while, and the starlight flickered in his blue eyes.

Helios: Of course.

MC: So….if I say I also want to share our lives together….is that okay?

Helios: This is obviously the question I should be asking you.

Helios: I want….to share my life with you.

He looked at me, his eyes no longer avoiding mine, but he was a little quiet which made me feel distressed and sad.

MC: It would be my pleasure.

The flickering starlight was gentle and bright, softly illuminating the smile in his eyes.

Helios: Let’s start now.

Helios: This week, how did you spend every day, what happened. I want to hear you tell me in person.

Helios: Before the stars fall asleep, we have time. 

End

(You can read the call that comes after the date here!)

[chaotic-noceur]

malaysia truly asia

paring: Nanami Kento x Malaysian!Reader

summary: the story of how Nanami had come to know about Malaysia and his first trip to the country he had longed to visit

warnings + contents: food/eating, beach, multilingual reader (malay is mentioned, the rest is implied), malaysia references (contextual notes are provided!)

a/n: I never thought knowing the Malaysian slogan would come in handy but here I am. Words cannot express how excited my Malaysian heart got when Nanami mentioned Malaysia so I'm hurling this into the tumblr void for anyone interested :)

contextual notes + malay transalation

terima kasih = thank you

ringgit = Malaysian currency

tokyo is an hour ahead of kuantan

sunrise is around 7am in Malaysia, anytime from 4-6am in Tokyo (according to google)

roti canai = 'Indian-influenced flatbread dish' (wikipedia)

roti tisu = similar to roti canai, except thinner and shaped like a cone

pasar malam = night market, usually on closed off sections of road

flag erasers are often collected by school kids who purchase them from the on campus bookshop

"You're not from here." He says it with such assertion that there was no room to deny it, not that you were going to. You quirk an eyebrow up at him instead from your place on your bed. He nods to the english book currently in your hands as if it's a way of answer. Your head tilts to one side and he sighs before continuing. "Your Japanese is good, but you speak it with hints of... uncertainty, like it's not your mother tongue." I would know, he doesn't say. Your gaze falls from his bashfully and he seems to realise the implication of his words. "I apologise, I hadn't meant it as an insult. I was merely hoping to ask about your childhood."

Your mouth forms an o before you reply with a curt "I grew up in Malaysia and then my family moved here." He seems to consider your answer for a moment before nodding and returning his attention to his book. The pair of you fall silent, residual noise from Gojo's graduation party filters in to fill the gap. Before long, you notice his gaze flitting around the room as he shifts in his seat, a sure sign that he was looking for an opportunity to speak more. You chuckling lightly before putting your book away. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything." Your eyes narrow slightly to deduce if he's teasing. But his eyes hold nothing but genuine curiosity. It was rare for Nanami to ever display his true emotions but there was something about his eyes that was always readable to you. So you talk. You tell him about the road trips you used to take up the peninsula, showed him photos of your childhood, pointed out the few bits of home that were scattered around your room. He clings on to every word as you tell him about the near-constant summer, complained about the humidity, and reminisced about the food that you dearly missed.

Truthfully, you are surprised by his interest. Few people had even heard of the small, dual-part country, even fewer have shown any interest in learning more. Maybe this is the moment you fell in love with him. Or at least, it's the moment you accept your feelings for him as something beyond an passing crush but as something worth fighting for.

“I hope we can visit it some day,” he says when you finish.

We, not I, you think. Your heart flutters in your chest at the realisation. He is seemingly unaware at the implication. You reply with a simple “maybe”, refusing to give in to the false hope that he returns your feelings.

Some months later, you find him huddled in a quiet corner of the Jujustu High library engrossed in a book of Malaysian history, a small notepad open beside him. Where he acquired the book was beyond you. With nothing better to do with your rare moment of free time, you shrug your shoulders before heading towards him, making noises as you move so as to not startle him when you settle beside him.

You're flipping through your book in search of the bookmark when he speaks, "would you like me to read to you?" You turn to look at him so fast he's concerned you might have gotten whiplash. His cheeks are flushed slightly and he refuses to meet your eye. You blink at him for several moments and he clears his throat awkwardly. "I just - well, I was hoping to practice my English with you. It's um.." he rubs at the base of his neck, "it's been a while since I've spoken it."

"Oh," you begin for lack of words. For as long as you've known him, he has never once mentioned being multilingual. Then again, he rarely ever talked about himself. Preferring to let Yuu take the lead in conversations or to direct questions away from himself. "Sure, I'd love to help!"

"Te-li-ma kah-sir?"

"Te-ri-ma ka-sih," you correct as you swipe through the selection of in-flight movies. Nanami repeats after you and you nod before smiling at him.

"And what about 'where is the toilet?'"

Your tapping stops momentarily. "Formally, or informally?" He deadpans at you and you chuckle in response. "Di manakah tandas?" His pen glides along his pocket notebook before he repeats after you once more. "Love, you know you'll be fine with just English right?"

He drops his pen and takes a sip of beer from the clear plastic cup before responding. "I know, but it's a sign of respect to make an attempt to learn the official language." A soft smile graces your face before you resume your scrolling. You really are the luckiest human on the planet to be able to call him yours.

It's mid-afternoon when you finally leave Kuatan Airport. Travel fatigue begins to set in on the taxi ride to the beach resort Nanami had booked. You loop your arm with his before settling you head on his shoulder. Instead of telling you that you should've slept on the plane like he would've done if it was anyone else, he simply graces your forehead with a kiss before returning his gaze to the map on his phone.

Checking into the resort is a smooth process. Nanami makes quick work of talking to the receptionist before the pair of you make your way to your room, the resort porter guiding you. Nanami had been inclined to refuse but the porter rejected his offer. The pair of you make light conversation with the resort porter as you walk, Nanami using his arsenal of Malay when he can.

When you arrive at your room, Nanami takes your bags from the porter as you unlock the door. He settles the bags inside as you shake the porter's hand in thanks, passing along a 5 ringgit bill. They thank you with a bow before taking their leave. Nanami shoots you a look of surprise when he notices the action. "I wasn't aware that there was a tipping culture in Malaysia."

"There isn't, not to the extent that westerner do anyway. It's really just porters and housekeeping." You shrug.

He scowls at your slightly. "Regardless, you should have informed me," he grumbles. You chuckle at him before patting his chest lightly, avoiding his sunglasses that hang from the v of his button up.

"Well, you'll have plenty of opportunities to leave a tip for housekeeping." You're staying here for two week after all.

As Nanami does a quick sweep of the room, you set up the wifi for your respective devices before making your way to the snack cabinet. You whoop when you find a packet of your favourite childhood snack. Nanami pokes his head out from the bathroom at the sound, only to raise a curious eyebrow when he finds you crouch on the floor, holding the packet as if it was your child. "What?" you exclaim, "I haven't seen these in years!" His arms shoot up in surrender before he returns to his checks, his lips curling into a smile at your antics.

When Nanami returns to the bedroom, he finds you asleep on the sofa, phone slipping from your grip. He removes it before it falls as he rubs at his eyes as the travel fatigue begins to hit him too. The long flight and layover hadn't done either of you any favours but he supposes that what he gets for choosing a city with a small airport.

He changes you out of your travel clothes before moving you to the bed. Once he stashes your valuables into the safe, he freshens himself up before crawling in beside you. You smell of an airport and the mist the flight attendants had sprayed in the cabin but he doesn't care as he nuzzles his nose into your neck.

This is peace, he thinks. No missions, no curses and no Gojou Satoru. Just the two of you and a (mostly) endless supply of sunshine. He likes the thought of that.

When he wakes from his nap, you’re no longer by his side. He panics for a moment before he turns and finds you sitting out on the wooden deck, admiring the ocean view as the sun begins to set. Raking a hand through his hair, he climbs out of bed and makes his way to you. You smile at him as he sits down before laying your head against his shoulder, his arm looping around your waist.

“Sorry I threw us off schedule,” you say after a while.

You feel his head shake against yours before he says, “as long as you're by my side, there's nothing to apologise for. We’re on holiday. Let’s enjoy the peace while it lasts.”

“Afraid Gojou’s going to appear out of thin air?” you tease. He groans at the mention of his senior's name.

"Don't mention that name again. You'll jinx us." This time, you can't help laugh against him. You peck his cheek in consolidation and he think maybe, just maybe, for once in his life, Gojou will keep his meddling fingers out of things that are none of his concern.

The next two weeks go by in a blur of delicious food, sandy toes and a ridiculous amount of sweat. If there was one thing you didn't miss about Malaysia, it was the humidity. But it never stopped Nanami from intertwining his fingers with yours or ghosting a kiss onto your temple. The pair of you had quickly settled into fragments of a routine since you had first arrived.

Every morning, Kento watches the sunrise from the cushioned seat on the wooden deck. The first time it happened was unintentional. His body had become habituated to waking up early for work. That, combined with the 1 hour time difference and the fact that the sun rose significantly later in Malaysia, meant that he had woken up well before the sky had shown any indication of light. You were still fast asleep, unmoving even as he slowly untangled himself from you. So as to not disturb you, he made himself a cup of tea and read from his Kindle on the wooden deck until the sun had began poking out of the horizon.

Then it just became his own little ritual. On occasions where you wake with him, the pair of you take a walk along the beach. The ocean waves kiss your bare feet to the beat of a song you do not know as you talk about your plans for the day. You stumble across a sea turtle laying her eggs one morning and the pair of you settle onto the sand, far enough away as to not spook her, but close enough to marvel at the rare sight.

Nanami pulls out his phone after a while to record a quick video and sends it to Yuuji. Not long after, Gojou attempts to facetime him and Nanami turns off his phone without hesitation. You chuckle at their antics before you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. Nanami declines all of Gojou calls for you and he gives up after 7 rejections. In hindsight, Nanami really should have seen that coming but he blames the cloud of holiday bliss that fogs his mind.

The rest of your days are spent enjoying the ocean breeze (or more often, the ocean heat), exploring the local attractions, immersing yourselves in the culture and best of all, devouring authentic Malaysian food. Nanami had made a list of the most recommended dining locations ranging from high end restaurants to road side food stalls and you make it your shared mission to visit every single one before you leave.

At each shop, he informs you of the best rated dishes but trusts your instincts/cravings for the most part. You point out any items that he 'has to try, at least once' and he asks questions about the items that pique his interest. More often than not, the pair of you will order a variety of dishes and share them, not able to settle on just one. Being the bread lover that he is, he takes a liking to roti canai. Although he isn't particularly unadventurous with his choices, always settling for a plain roti canai and opting for experimenting with curries instead. So, you take the plunge for him, knowing he'll likely be intrigued by the pointy hat shaped crepe that sits before you — he later learns that it's a roti tisu, or the stuffed roti that arrives. (He thanks you later.)

On your last night there, the pair of you make your way to the biggest pasar malam in the city. Nanami had a list of local fruits that he was hoping to buy while you had a list of souvenir ideas for the kids and your coworkers. You walk hand in hand, following the flow of footfall as your eyes scan the stalls. Nanami doesn't particularly know what he's looking for as he passes the snack stalls but he's enjoying himself all the same as he watches you converse with the stall keepers in a foreign tongue. He slips out of his daze when he feels a cold packet being pressed against his hand. "What's this?" He slips his wrist through the plastic loop and grips the tied-off section of the bag.

"Sugar cane!" you chirp, radiating an excited aura that rivalled Yuuji. Must be the atmosphere, he thinks. He takes a sip through the straw as you receive your change. Sweetness floods his taste buds but don’t overwhelm them. He savours the refreshing coolness it brings, contrasting the humidity. You look to him expectedly as you tug him further down the street. “Good?” you ask over the noise from the crowd.

“Acceptable.” There's a look of content tugging on his features that contradicts his tone and a soft smile tugs at your lips before you're promptly distracted by another stall.

When you finally arrive at the fruit stalls, you’re armed with a packet of cheap flag erasers for the students and an assortment of sugary snacks for the school staff room. The crowd had dwindled as you moved further towards the back of the market, allowing you a clear view of most of the stalls before you.

Nanami tugs on your intertwined hands before leading you towards a stall with mountains of rambutans and mangosteens. He nods politely at the elderly couple manning the store and accepts the plastic basket they hand him. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the smile that tugs at his lips when they greet him in English. Undoubted pleased to be able to use his skills.

“I assume I should pick the ones that are not blackened and soft?” he says to you when the couple finish explaining the pricing. You nod in response as you begin carefully placing fruits into the basket. Nanami mimics your actions beside you before his attention is grabbed by the fruits to your right. “Is that what I believe it to be?”

You follow his gaze as he speaks. When they fall on spiky green fruits and packets of yellow, your eyes light up in delight. “Mhmm,” you hum before turning back to face him. There’s a sparkle of wonder in his eyes that makes you laugh before you turn to speak to the woman, “how much for a packet of durian?”

You look wistfully at the whole durians as the lady bags your items. As much as you would love to see Nanami use his 7:3 technique on the fruit (you can almost sense your ancestors rolling over in their graves at the thought), you know you won't be able to finish it off by yourselves. Besides, there is no guarantee that Nanami wouldn't hate it.

Rather uneventfully, Nanami does not hate durian on instinct — "the smell is uninviting, but the fruit itself is decent," he says as he helps himself to another. So, with the remnants of fruit juice clinging to your lips and the lingering smell of durian on your breath (despite your best efforts to get rid of both), the pair of you now walk along the beach's shoreline. Your pinkies are looped as you rejoice in the complete and utter sense of peace. There are no curses to be worrying about, no impromptu visit from a certain colleague. And for the first time in a long long time, Nanami feels like he can let his guard down. He feels like he doesn’t need to keep looking over his shoulder all the time. He doesn't feel the weight of the country's safety settling in his chest.

“We should come back some time,” he says as the waves lap at your feet gently.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “not sick of fending off mosquitoes and melting in the heat yet?” There’s a teasing glint in your eyes and he chuckles along with you.

He smiles at you then — genuinely, without fear of showing his emotions, shakes his head and kisses your temple gently. “Maybe we can visit your family next time. You can show me where you grew up, your favourite places, where you had your first date...” You smack him across his chest for his teasing while he chuckles at the action.

“Maybe one day.” He interlocks your hands then and ghosts a kiss over your knuckles before looping it over your shoulder to pull you into his chest. One day... when you’re both rid of this curse-riddled life.

[queenxxxsupreme]

I was wondering if you could write something with a plus sized reader? It can be any of the witchers and/or Jaskier (although I think esk, lam, & jask would work best). Can be more focused on them finding the reader attractive/hot? I see lots of fics and headcannons abt plus size readers that are all about insecurities and finding the reader beautiful and aethestically pleasing. I'm plus size and I think I am beautiful, just not... attractive. looking hot and looking pretty/beautiful are different. idk if that makes sense I just want someone to think I'm hot. It can be NSFW or funny and fluffy. if you aren't comfortable writing this that's cool too. I just really like your writing. You have created a really welcoming community/page and I felt comfortable enough asking. I appreciate it so much. Thank you. 💜

A/N: I love this ask!!! Though I’m not sure I followed the prompt properly…. :( I wanted to do Lambert very badly which is part of the reason why it took so long to do but I couldn’t make it work with the prompt so I ended up doing Jaskier. I hope you liked it babe!

Warnings: no smut but Jaskier is a cheeky bastard and suggests NSFW 18+ things so if you aren’t into that please don’t read! also mentions of poor self image but Jaskier makes it better

***

You watched the tailor and seamstress murmur to each other in a language you didn’t understand. The seamstress said something, gesturing to the skirt you wore. Then she looked back at the tailor who shook his head disapprovingly. 

Their eyes seemed to drill holes into you. You suddenly felt so stupid for letting Jaskier talk you into coming to this expensive shop to be professionally fitted for a dress to match his outfit for the gala in two nights. 

But he was just so excited about the gala. It was the first time you’d be meeting the famed Geralt of Rivia as well as a few of Jaskier’s other friends he had met on his journeys with the witcher. 

You felt saddened that he was so eager to take you to the gala. Surely you'd only make him look like a fool in front of his friends and comrades. 

“Dear? Are you listening?” Jaskier placed his hand on the back of your calf as he moved around the stool you were balanced upon. 

You brought your eyes down to him. 

“Hm? Oh, erm, yes. Of course, I-I was.” 

He frowned. 

“No, you’ve got something else on your mind. What is it?”

You shook your head, smoothing out the material to your dress. 

“Nothing, Jask. It’s fine.”

“Tell me, please.” He reached up to take your hand in his, brushing his thumb along your knuckles. 

You kept your eyes on him for a few moments before looking in the direction of the seamstress and tailor. They no longer looked at you but they were still gesturing in your direction. 

“It’s just silly, Jaskier.” You shook your head. 

“You look upset, darling. It’s not silly if it’s upsetting you. Step down for a second, my sweet.” Jaskier held your hand as you stepped down from the stool. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, looking at you with furrowed brows. “Please tell me. Did something happen?”

You shook your head, chewing on the inside of your cheek. 

“Can you understand what they’re saying?”

“Of course.” Jaskier nodded. “They’re talking about putting ruffles in your skirt. Alma thinks a few would be a good idea to add some at the bottom but Derion is completely against the very thought of ruffles.”

You could practically feel the weight lift off of your shoulders. You almost laughed. 

“Really?”

“I know. I don’t think ruffles are a good idea, but Alma is an incredibly talented seamstress. She has an eye for creating beauties. But sadly ruffles will not be happening today.” Jaskier waved the two over. “With all do respect to you, darling Alma, I think we should pass on the ruffles this time.”

“Bastard.” Alma swatted her hand in his direction. 

“Let’s move on from the skirt.” Derion waved his hand dismissively. “For the bust. It’s the most important part. It will take Alma hours to bead together intricate detailing to match your doublet, Master Julian. She needs to know how you’d like it done in order to begin working.” 

“Right.” Jaskier placed his hand on the small of your back. “I’m thinking a rather cheeky neckline. Perhaps an off the shoulder neckline that goes a little deeper than what’s traditionally seen.”

“Jaskier!” Your cheeks flushed as you looked at him. 

“Darling, it will be absolutely fantastic! Show a bit of your chest off! Show everyone how sexy you are.”

“Jaskier.”

“It appears as though you have yet to come to an agreement on a top.” Derion spoke, looking between you two. “When my lady decides on what style of top she’d like, please do let us know. Until then, Alma, let’s continue with the skirt while they chat.” 

You watched the two move towards the desk off to the side of the room. 

“Jaskier–,”

“Just picture this, my love.” Jaskier cut you off, his hand leaving your back as he moved to stand in front of you. “The corset is supporting your bust, holding the girls up and putting them on display–,”

“For the entire gala to see?” You widened your eyes. “What are you trying to do? Make your friends think I’m some strumpet?”

“No! No! Of course not! I think you’d look sexy like that.” Jaskier put his hand on your hip. “And the corset will accentuate your figure–,”

“The figure I don’t have.” You turned away from him, making your way towards the chairs that sat near the windows. You were thankful the curtains were drawn. This gave you some privacy from the outside world. 

“What? That’s ridiculous. You have a figure. A marvelous one at that.” Jaskier followed behind you. 

“I have the same figure as an apple, Jaskier. Or a pumkin. Round and-and large and just.... There’s nothing you should be so eager to show off at the gala.” You sat down in one of the seats, your voice quivering as you fought to keep your emotions at bay. 

Jaskier knelt down in front of you, his hands taking yours in his own. His touch, calloused from years of playing instruments, was warm as he gave you a squeeze. 

He didn’t know what to say at first. He was upset with himself for having not noticed that you were uncomfortable earlier. He was upset with himself for making you uncomfortable.

“Love-,”

“And don’t- Jaskier, please don’t try to tell me I’m not.” You whispered, unable to meet his gaze as tears blurred your vision. “I know I am. If you deny it, it’ll be like denying that the sky is blue or that-that grass is green.”

Jaskier nodded softly, understanding your words. He let the silence sit between you for a few more moments. He reached up to wipe your cheeks. Then he moved to sit in the seat next to you, keeping your hands in his.

“You know, my favorite shade of blue is just after the sun sets.” He murmured. “It’s dark and it’s ominous, but it’s stunning to see planets begin to show even though the sun hasn’t set yet. It’s like they’re beginning to come out of hiding. And my favorite shade of green is much more specific than that. Do you remember that time we laid in the lupin field just outside of Cintra all day?”

“Of course I remember that.” You sniffled, a little smile coming to your lips. “You read and sang to me all day. It was a beautiful day.”

“That day is my favorite shade of green.” Jaskier rubbed the back of your hand. He leaned in to kiss the corner of your eye. “And that night…. That night was when I realized my favorite shade of blue, you know?”

Your heart began to race a little quicker. That evening in the lupine field had been rather romantic and intimate. It was one of your favorite memories with the bard. 

Jaskier took a deep breath, looking across the room to the seamstress and tailor for a moment to make sure they were occupied with something else. 

“Dear heart, you know I would make sure the dress they create makes you look nothing short of the goddess you are.”

“I-I don’t…. I don’t have that same faith, Jaskier.” You shook your head, looking away from him to one of the paintings on the wall. It was of a beautiful woman in a stunning violet dress. She was thinner than you and the dress she wore made sure to show what curves she had off.

“You don’t have faith in me?” He asked softly.

“I don’t have faith in myself. You keep saying I’m going to look sexy and that you want to put me on display-,”

“Y/N, I was only joking. I’m so sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I meant absolutely no harm by it.” Jaskier put his hand on your knee. “I just- My gods, Y/N. The very idea of you in the dress I envision. Everyone is going to be fucking staring. On second thought, perhaps it wouldn’t be a good idea to put you in a dress similar to that. In the off chance that I’d be able to take my eyes off of you, I’d have to fight anyone who dared to look at you.”

He wore the biggest grin on his lips and you knew he meant well by it. He really did. But your stomach churned at the thought.

“They’ll be staring because I’ll look absolutely ridiculous.” You turned your head away from him. “Ladies like me weren’t made for galas and ballgowns.”

“I happen to think you are perfect for a ballgown, my dear.” He leaned over to kiss your ear. “I know you don’t see it, but you are absolutely sexy. Hell, if I had a say in it, you wouldn’t even be wearing a gown. But there are going to be other people there and I can’t have anyone else seeing your gorgeous body.” 

Your cheeks flushed.

“Can I offer you a little deal? A peace treaty?” Jaskier suggested. You looked at him, meeting his blue gaze. “They have a dress cut similar to the one I’d like to be made for you. Can you try it on for me before we make any decisions today?”

You nodded your head, letting out a little breath. You would at least try it on and let him see how ridiculous you’d look. If you proved him wrong now, maybe he’d listen to you in the future. 

“Will it fit me?”

“They can make it work for you so you can at least get an idea of the style.”

“Okay.”

“Excellent.” He gave you a kiss on the temple before going across the room to Alma and Derion. He spoke to them in the language you didn’t know. It was a beautiful language. As he said the words he had the ability to make it sound otherworldly. How could one man, a human no less, make words sound angelic? 

Derion and Alma left the room together. Jaskier clasped his hands behind his back, leaned forward to watch where they had disappeared. Alma returned moments later alone. In her hands she held a dress. 

The dress was dark green but that was all you could tell.

“I’ll give you a moment to get dressed. Take good care of her, Alma.”

“I will. You worry about yourself, Master Julian.” Alma waved him away. 

You wanted to object, to say that you could get dressed by yourself, but you knew very well you wouldn’t be able to. You didn’t want to rip the dress. The material was probably more expensive than you could afford. 

“Take off your dress, darling.” Alma placed the dress over a nearby chair. “I’ll grab pins so that we can pin the dress in place.”

“Pin?” You repeated. “In place?”

“Yes, darling. It wasn’t made for your body. We need to make the dress work for your figure so we do that by manipulating the fabric with pins. Don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing.”

***

Alma called for Jaskier after the dress was situated properly on you. 

You nervously moved back and forth as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other to get a better look in the mirror. 

The dress fit you decently. It was loose fitting in the chest but Alma fixed that with pins. She pinned a few other spots too but they were in the back so you couldn’t see all that well. 

The material was a beautiful emerald green silk with darker green embroidery around the bust. The off the shoulder neckline wasn’t terribly low in the middle where it dipped down, but it was lower cut than what you would usually wear. 

“Now remember, darling. The corset will be tighter on you and be providing support.” Alma spoke as she moved around the stool you were resting on. 

“My gods, Y/N! I love it!” Jaskier clapped his hands together. “Just wait until we get it in the blue to match my doublet!”

“Alma!” Derion called for Alma. 

Alma excused herself, leaving you alone with Jaskier. 

He moved around the stool, admiring the dress on you. 

“Before I lose myself in my own thoughts, love, what do you think?” Jasier clasped his hands together and held them near his mouth. 

You looked back to the mirror, shifting a little. 

“I don’t…. hate it as much as I thought I would.” You admitted. 

“But do you like it? Are you comfortable with the style? Be completely honest with my, darling. If you aren’t, there is no worry at all! I’ll have them make a style you are comfortable in. I want you to be comfortable first. No matter what you wear you will be absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking and I will be ripping the dress off of you come the end of the night.”

“Jaskier.” You scolded. He gave you a cheeky smile. “I do like the cut and I like the off the shoulder part, but perhaps if we could add sleeves to it?”

“Of course! Oh that would be stunning! I’ll let Alma and Derion know. Anything else you want to add or take away?”

“I don’t think so.” You looked back to the mirror. “I think I’ll like it more once it’s in the blue. I do like the green, but the blue will match your doublet for the gala. And the green makes me sort of feel like a melon.”

Jaskier frowned.

“I wish you’d stop comparing yourself to fruits.” 

“Would you rather a toad? ‘Cause I look like one of those in this dark green too. A rather large toad.”

“If you are a toad, then what would that make me?” He held his hand out for you so he could assist you in stepping down from the stool.

“My pretty princess.” You giggled. 

“Hmm. Well you are the sexiest toad I have ever seen.” He pulled you into his arms. “But I rather like calling you a fruit. You taste just like one-,”

“Jaskier!”

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[kettlequills]

Chapter 1: waking dreams: master of fate

Miraak is victorious against the Last Dragonborn at the Summit of Apocrypha, and reclaims his rightful place as ruler of Solstheim. However, the world he wakes to is not the one he left behind thousands of years ago. When the certainty Miraak once relied on is questioned, will he be able to adapt to this new world and the people within in time to prevent the destruction of all he has worked for? On A03 here.

Tags and tws: Blood and graphic violence, major death, mind control, Apocrypha, Mora.

“And so the First Dragonborn meets the Last Dragonborn at the summit of Apocrypha. No doubt just as Hermaeus Mora intended.” Miraak’s words rang out bold and proud over the inky seas that surrounded his lonely tower.

He stood, gleaming and glowing, every inch the Dragon Priest he had been, unchanged and preserved in time like a moth behind glass, since Hermaeus Mora’s theft of him from his rightful place at the helm of Tamriel. He kept his back straight and his shoulders tall, let his voice thunder with echoes, and he looked down upon the Last Dragonborn fearsomely-masked, staff in hand. His show, his pride, his excitement, was for his benefit, and theirs, and the dragons that watched them, silent and monumental in this battle of the ages.

Sahrotaar, Relonikiv, Kruziikrel. His companions, his servants, through his torment – and now, the witnesses of his triumph.

As they would all witness!

“The hour of my freedom from this place and its fickle master draws near!” Miraak cried exultantly, fought to remind himself it was for moments more premature, “and soon I will be master of my own fate, once again. My time in Apocrypha is over. And soon, so will be yours.”

Hermaeus Mora’s thousand-fold eyes were unseen in the sickly green sky, but Miraak knew he was there. If he peered over the sheer edge to that liquid darkness, he knew he’d see Seekers clustered like crows, with their ragged cloaks like tattered wings tugged by no current save that of Fate and Mora’s will in airless Apocrypha. In the waters themselves, he would see Lurkers bleeding oil with steady pulses that sat upon the ink in fiery shimmers. Even the constant muttering of rustling pages hissed and whispered amongst themselves, as if placing bets. He heard the riotous wet slap of the ink against the base of the tower, the tentacles beneath squirming like blind worms to the light, and Miraak knew the whole of Apocrypha was watching.

In the tautness of the near-silence, his dragon- and man-heart stuttered in its restless anticipation, cried with each pounding beat the hope of a thousand years’ work swift-coming culmination: soon, soon.

Steady and sure, the Last Dragonborn that returned his gaze. Even now, on the eve of his victory, he drank in the sight; how he had craved the presence of another as the years worn on in his lonely imprisonment.

The air seemed easier to breathe scented by the freshness of Nirn they carried in their lungs, and their arms, their armour, were richly coloured, the most vibrant thing in this world of nightmare and books. No pallid greens or inkblushed blues for them, this Dragonborn wore handsome red and burnished steel. They were solid, made strong by the grain and meat of Skyrim, by the grape and grass of their sun-dazzled, Aedric-blessed life outside this cursed realm. Even now, their form was faint to his eyes, anchored to their real body on Nirn. As he soon would be real, and subject to the pressures of the wind and the rain, the sun and sky, once more.

They were no simple Seeker of Mora’s knowledge, this Dragonborn, with their well-worn sword held sure in their grip and their scratched shield in the other, no, they came to Miraak in the armaments of a warrior, the trappings of an empire Miraak had seen in illustrations. Their skin was browned by sun, their dark eyes watchful and shadowed beneath the owl-face of their wood mask.

Such cheap imitation though their mask was, he scoffed internally, of the mighty artefact they would have been gifted had they walked in Miraak’s time – but no, the men of this new age were weak and stumbling, and remembered not what they ought. No matter, though, he thought, and felt his lips twist to bare his teeth unseen, Miraak would teach them.

“You will die here, by my hand,” Miraak continued, promised, “And with the power of your soul, I will enact my glorious return to Solstheim.”

Unaffected, or perhaps he dared to hope, sparked by this threat, the Last Dragonborn rolled their shoulders with a metallic grinding and extended one gauntlet. They beckoned to him insouciantly, and their feet slid apart to a fighting stance, ready to leap in any direction.

“No words for me, Dragonborn?” Miraak taunted, too eager to let this fated confrontation end without a moment to savour its richness upon his tongue, and the Last Dragonborn growled.

“You waste your breath,” they said, in their raw, untrained Voice of thunder, “Better to beg the name of the one who will be victorious: I am LAAT-AAZ-IN!”

“A strong name,” Miraak allowed, grinning savagely under his mask as their Shout rocked the tower beneath them, shivers of that power in the soles of his boots, “You could have been mighty, if fate had decreed otherwise, Slayer of Alduin.”

“Might is unnecessary to win against a man who only talks.” Laataazin nettled at his pride, but though their weapon was held ready they waited for him to speak first, as the elder of the two of them. The note of respect for Miraak was beyond what he had expected – the Greybeards it seemed had bothered to teach their rare pupil some things. Miraak burned to know what else.

“Is that so?” Miraak murmured, and he could not hold back anymore, mortal words were soft as snow in his mouth and he needed fire. “YOL TOOR SHUL!”

It was a mighty greeting, and Laataazin’s wide eyes vanished behind their shield. The plume of fire was brilliant and blinding-bright, and through it, Laataazin charged fearlessly at him. Blinking smoke from his eyes and too slow to leap aside, Miraak swept his staff across his chest. Their shield, glowing white-hot at the edges, smashed into him like a battering ram. The staff clanged hollowly at the brute impact.

They wrestled there at the summit. It was hot work. The thinner parts of Laataazin’s armour were molten and spark-bright, the flames that licked at the fabrics of their tabard smoking relentlessly. Miraak drove his heels into the soft leathery floor, refusing to back down even as he felt his staff begin to creak ominously and his muscles scream. Kruziikrel snarled – Miraak heard the snap of jaws, one of the other dragons harrying it. Sahrotaar? Laataazin had flown it to the summit. Their eyes burned in the firelight through the mask, behind the shield, glimpses of brown shimmering orange. Miraak met those fire-bright eyes, and saw in them a soul that mirrored his own.

Inexorably, Laataazin pushed him back.

Miraak gritted his teeth as he was forced back one step, then another. He had the height advantage, towering clear, he could see their skin bubbling and scalding under their armour at the intense heat, but Laataazin was strong. Cracks raced like fault-lines up his staff, and he had moments – moments, before it shattered in his grip.

They would disarm him? So be it!

He gave a giant shove, and Laataazin’s shield dipped as they staggered. He seized the opportunity and at once Miraak discharged all the magic in the staff. It exploded with a thunderous boom and crack of searing white light.

Miraak was blown clear, rolling quickly to his feet with visions of Laataazin planting their sword in his spine. He squinted around his arms protecting his head from the shrapnel flying everywhere, and hissed.

Laataazin had gone to one knee, but as he stared, they shrugged off the explosion and rose to their feet. Their mask had shattered on their face, and they swiped their metal-clad arm over the wreckage. Fresh blood splattered free from the splinters driven into the flesh of their face, but Laataazin did not pause a moment before raising their head to look for Miraak. Threateningly, their shoulders rolled back, their neck arched, and Miraak had just enough presence of mind to throw up a ward before Laataazin Shouted.

“YOL TOOR SHUL!”

His ward was battered by the strength of their fire, but held. Over the roar of the dragon-fire, Miraak could hear his actual dragons thrumming warmly in approval. Miraak’s fierce joy welled like a song in his heart. Laataazin’s Thu’um was strong, nearly his match. How long it had been, since he had had conversation with one of the Dov – true conversation, of magnificent fire and fury!

Miraak would not dishonour his opponent by holding back an inch. As Laataazin’s dragon-fire dimmed, Miraak shot a bolt of lightning into its heart. Laataazin cursed in a rumbling voice – either he’d surprised them or hit them. He followed it up immediately with a torrent of ice-storm. The cold was revitalising after the heat of their grappling, and even better, he heard the brittle snap of Laataazin’s armour. Thick mist descended, the hiss of his summoned snow spitting when it touched their searing hot armour, the tower.

Miraak drew his sword and spun it idly in one hand.

“Hiding is beneath you, Dragonborn,” he called smugly. Casting Muffle in one hand, he prowled around the column of mist and strained his eyes for any movement in the shadows inside. There – a flicker!

Miraak’s Cyclone Shout bolstered the speed of his limbs, until he was like a surging tempest. He rained down blows on Laataazin, their shield, their armoured shoulders, but Laataazin bore the vicious attacks like a fortress of stone. His oily weapon, the gleam of Mora’s eye dark against his wrist, spawned writhing tentacles that yanked and pulled at the ties of their armour. One strap frayed and snapped under his onslaught, and Laataazin leapt back as if they had just realised what he was about.

“Serpent!” they hissed at him, and Miraak smirked.

He turned his eyes to the crumbling pillars where the dragons snapped and snarled at each other. Relonikiv was tenting its wings, posturing at a growling Sahrotaar, whose finned tail lashed restlessly. Its eyes were dull and distressed.

“Weak that you are,” Miraak called up to it, “You may serve me again to redeem yourself.”

He summoned in a great breath to Shout, but Laataazin’s rung out first, with a crack like sundering worlds. All three dragons froze, the leash of Bend Will dropping over them like a lead blanket.

“Go!” Laataazin shouted hoarsely. They had pushed themselves to Shout sooner than they should have, Miraak could hear the cracks in their throat. No master indeed the Greybeards had raised.

Relonikiv was first, shooting up like an arrow from a bow, then Sahrotaar with a howl of “Thuri!” that sounded almost mournful. Kruziikrel fought, digging its talons into the pillars, but Relonikiv swooped down again to bite at its head until, roaring, Kruziikrel lumbered into the sky. Sahrotaar circled them in swooping lines, like a carrion bird over an army.

“Using my own Shout against me?” Miraak snarled, “They cannot help you up there!”

Miraak did not wait for them to recover but rushed to close the gap. He needed that shield gone if he wanted to close this fight and secure his freedom. Distracted by the dragons, Laataazin didn’t have time to raise their shield before he was on them.

“MUL QAH DIIV!” Miraak’s Dragon Aspect emblazoned him like a god, strengthened his attacks. He went for power this time, two hands clutching over the grip of his sword, blinding Laataazin with sweeps of his great spectral wings. They firmed beneath their onslaught, but their fierce eyes were looking at his face – and so therefore missed his tail lashing around to crack against their knee.

Laataazin stumbled, and Miraak wedged his sword under the shield and sent it flying. A well-placed lightning bolt had it soaring clear over the edge of the tower, and he retreated out of the range of their retribution. With how strong they were, he did not want to risk being caught beneath their blade. He imagined they must strike with the strength of a giant.

Facing him, Laataazin’s expression, marred by old scars and freshly-cut by the splinters of their mask, was a ferocious scowl. Their only reply was a wracking cough. They held their weaponless hand cocked protectively over their midriff, where the loosened strap had left their chestplate to sag on one side.

Relonikiv screamed anxiously.

They met with a furious clash. Evenly armed, though Miraak noted Laataazin had not once used magic, their struggle was one of bodies and clanging weapons. They drove notches into his sword with the force of their swings, jarred his arms all the way up to his shoulder. The fight was long, brutal, and messy. Thrice they cut him and once they just fisted a hand around his belt and headbutted him so hard his skull rang inside his mask.

The summit quickly became scarred with their tumultuous battle, smoking pits of dragon-fire and magical ice still crackling with the aftermath of lightning. The leathery spines of the books that made up this particular tower became waterlogged and swampy under their feet, making Miraak’s boots slide and slip when they bulled against him.

It was an intricate dance, and Miraak’s partner knew the steps well. Better, perhaps, than he, after all this time in Apocrypha with none but Seekers and Lurkers with whom to practice his skills. He praised their skill, and reassured them of the inevitability of his triumph. He could not lose. Miraak’s destiny was freedom.

Through it all, the ink swirled and sucked against the base of the tower, and the dragons circled far above it, their agitated roaring backdrop to the clashing of their blades, Miraak’s grunts when they pushed him back. Laataazin was quiet, but he heard the raspiness of their breathing, saw the sweat that dripped down their forehead and mingled with the blood on their face. He couldn’t stop himself from inhaling when they came together again, close as lovers with their breath misting the front of his mask. Their sweat was pure and human, untainted by daedra.

When they were so close he could feel the trembling of their muscles as they fought him not through their blade but through their brace against his chest, Miraak met their eyes. They were brown as earth, he noticed, narrowed in determination. Bloodshot, as if they hadn’t been sleeping well. He bared his teeth at them. How long had they spent, toiling at his stones? Were their bloody eyes his alone?

The tentacles of his sword oozing wetly down the guard of their own, Miraak leant all his weight on their arms. He bore down on them with all his height advantage, crowding the smaller Last Dragonborn until he could see the strain gritting their teeth.

“Getting tired, Dragonborn?” Miraak purred, ignoring the fatigue in his own muscles.

They flicked their gaze up to the dragons circling far overhead. Their arm shook. Miraak pushed harder, sensing an opportunity, and all at once their body trembled at the force of him and gave in. His sword punched into the gap in their armour and slid in to the hilt. Reflexively, Miraak tried to yank it free – but it had notched into bone, and all he achieved was making blood gush wet and warm from the wound.

Laataazin gasped.

For a brief moment, the both of them only blinked at the sword that speared from Laataazin’s chest, the blood that spurted steadily over Miraak’s gloves, but then suddenly, their weapon fell from nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor.

“NO!” Mora howled, “This cannot be!”

Laataazin fell, and Miraak caught them without knowing why. They were warm and real, heavy, in his arms. He sank to his knees to bear their weight, arrested by the sheer redness of their shocking-bright blood over their steely armour, his robes, his buckle. Exposed, Laataazin stared up at him, their ruined face mortal and small. This close, he noticed details about them he had not before; the grey hairs that stood among the close-cropped brown of their hair – older than Miraak looked, but centuries younger – the wrinkles around their eyes and mouth that told him they had loved to laugh, once. Laataazin did not laugh now. They coughed, a wet, rattling gurgle, and blood splattered over the scarred lips. They were trying to speak, he could see their lips fumbling, but only blood came out.

“This is the only way, Dragonborn,” Miraak hissed at them, “The only way I can be free.”

Their hand, weakly, curled into the front of his robes.

“This is not my design!” Mora shrieked, and Miraak was dimly aware of his tentacles racing over the floor towards them.

Laataazin’s wide eyes stared up at Miraak. Tears of pain glittered on their cheek. Their breath was shallow and rattling around the sword. They were going to suffocate on their own blood; Miraak had perforated their lung. But there was no time for Laataazin to die slowly in Miraak’s arms. Mora was coming.

Miraak gripped the Last Dragonborn’s jaw, and closed his eyes, his bloody gloved hand spreading red stains over Laataazin’s neck as he sought the softness of their temples, then the back of their head. He pulled on his magicka, that deep and verdant pool inside of him. And then as Mora reached them, Miraak cast the strongest lightning spell he knew.

A snap of burning flesh and Mora’s scream. Laataazin’s body convulsed in his arms, and Miraak roared in pain as the electricity shot through his own body, but they were dead before their stunned hand could untwist from their robes.

Mora’s tentacles wrapped around Laataazin’s chest and yanked. Miraak clung to their body doggedly.

“No,” he shouted, “NO! You won’t-“

A bolt of green magic struck his shoulder and Miraak cried out. Seekers – waves of them, coming up the side of the tower-

Laataazin’s flesh was beginning to glow, Miraak maintaining a death grip on them as the embers of their soul roared to life and surged into him. He felt their flesh dissolving against his fingers, felt the hungry jaws inside his dragon-soul rear its jaw wide, ready to rend and tear Laataazin’s soul into nothing but power for Miraak.

Another blast of magic rocked him, then three more in quick succession. It blew him onto his back and Miraak stared through eyes blurred with pain as the three dragons in the sky tucked their wings and dove. Fire blasted from Sahrotaar, immolating a wave of Seekers before they could fire on Miraak again.

Mora’s tentacles thickened like snake coils and with a mighty heave, the Prince yanked Laataazin’s body from his grasp. Miraak clung to the shred of the Last Dragonborn’s soul even as their body was ripped away from him. With effort, Miraak plunged his magic into the centre of Laataazin’s soul, and followed that tiny, tugging thread, back to Laataazin’s real body.

The air rent wide with a horrible Daedric scream. An unholy rictus of green light shredded open and Miraak saw through, warm darkness, firelight, Nirn. Mora was howling with rage, his thick tentacles wrapping around Miraak’s neck, his body, his limbs, trying to slow him down. The dragons protected him from the Seekers, rode flaming passes over Mora’s tentacles so they withered and popped with the thick reek of smoking oil, but Miraak felt himself being dragged back, slowly, into Mora’s embrace.

“No, no, no,” he gasped, desperation searing as tears in his eyes.

For a moment, Miraak felt a surge of something, as if some dying ember of the Last Dragonborn had heard his cry as he ate their soul, and then the glorious streams of gold and blue and green became fire, dragonfire, infused with all the colours of Keizaal’s auroras and hotter than its sun.  A rancid smell boiled up as Mora’s tentacles bubbled and burnt in the fire of Laataazin’s soul infusing into Miraak, their flesh into his, their will becoming his own.

Miraak forced his foot through the portal, then his shoulder. He struggled there like a fly caught in a web as the portal began to narrow and waver, his body wrenched between planes by Mora’s tentacles.

“Niid,” Miraak roared, “MUL QAH DIIV!”

His Dragon Aspect formed spears of spines that drove into Mora’s tentacles, causing the Daedric Prince to snarl. The tentacle hold loosed, just barely, just slightly, and Miraak stumbled forward, out, out, out, into Nirn.

Miraak collapsed to his knees onto Laataazin’s fleshless body, hearing their bones rattle within the casings of their armour at the force of the collision. With his last shred of strength, he reached back and hooked his hand into the portal, feeling Apocrypha’s fury shred into the bone and muscle of his hand. It was agony, agony, but first Sahrotaar’s blue snout wrested its way out, Relonikiv, slim and quick, and Kruziikrel, shouldering through with a deep bass roar at the tightening shred of Mora’s thorns.

The portal snapped closed with a resounding boom. Miraak felt Mora’s presence die, a last imprint of futile, terrible rage.

One of the dragons was howling, and droplets of dragonblood were stinging acidic on Miraak’s shoulders, his bowed head. His hand was a wreck, bloody ink gushing from the wounds, and Miraak was laughing, laughing.

He gripped Laat Dovahkiin’s empty chestplate until his gloves creaked. Their mask rattled free of their fleshless skull, blank white wood yet unbroken here, with no eyes, no enemy, no soul. Miraak gasped for breath around horrible laughter that wrenched at his chest as if it were possessing him, hot tears in his eyes.

Miraak was free.

(tags: @sumsaltysorceress @argisthebulwark)

[heliolicious]

napoleone della rosa's diary - from cristoforo della rosa's point of view

chapter 2: confusion

one day, napoleone had a girlfriend. she appeared very suddenly in his life, the girl of the restaurant confessed to him, a spring day, that she wanted to be his girlfriend. and my brother, a 17 year old, bless his naive being, gave into it without questioning anything. he never got anybody going up to him and asking him out like that, everyone preferred to be away from him. because he was the weird one. the smart ass chatterbox. the one everyone found boring.

portia de amarettis, this was the girl's name. i saw her, multiple times, at home. she seemed to be highly spoilt and respected by our parents, who even started to treat napoleone himself, a little better. something didn't sit right with me about it. something felt fishy, but napoleone was blinded by the feeling of finally having someone by his side. i can't tell if he really ever loved portia, or if he was only ever in love with the sole idea of being loved by someone.

"april 12nd, 1992. (=napoleone's age: 18 / cristoforo's age: 15)

this morning i've been on a date with portia, my girlfriend. we have two almost every week, my parents have never been happier than this, it almost feels like they care about my happiness and my freedom, which is pretty unbelievable. we ate together, and i paid for it to try to be a gentleman. i feel like i took a wrong step, however, when i asked her how she was feeling about making love with me. she is two years older than me, i supposed she already had more experience, but she said she wasn't ready yet. and looked a little upset when she left.

so i took some time to think about where did i go wrong, hoping she wouldn't be upset. i took a walk at the park. and i met a boy, who didn't laugh in my face and didn't call me names when everyone else did. he seemed to be much taken aback from me, and did not want me to see his face. this didn't and won't stop me from being next to him. i'll see him again."

so he met a special friend. a special friend that in a matter of little time, became someway almost as important as portia in his life. but again, his dates with portia started to feel organized in the same way his parents organized and kept under their control his studying schedule. my brother would have wanted to spend an afternoon with his new friend, but sometimes, they set up a date for him and the girl three afternoons in a row. so he couldn't see his friend, for quite some time.

his girlfriend started to feel more like homework, during those days, leading my brother to think about it and realize, that maybe it wasn't as good as he thought. that maybe his heart didn't really beat for her precisely, nothing was in his heart when she smiled, he only ever felt something when he thought about receiving love. no matter whether it came from portia herself or not. until he realized what being suddenly lovestruck really meant.

when his friend showed up with a completely different face. a perfect one. a porcelain doll looking one.

"april 20th, 1992. (=napoleone's age: 18 / cristoforo's age: 15)

i am feeling weird. i have a girlfriend, so it can't be that my heart is racing for desire towards someone else. it should just be for the surprise, he said it's a curse that changed his appearance. never have i ever struggled to keep myself from kissing someone this hard. but he's a man. and i am one too. i don't know how to take this, not to mention, i am busy with portia. even if i never felt this way for her. this might just be the effect of the surprise for i have seen his new face. i have a date with portia, tomorrow. i'll see what do i feel about her and judge what's up with me."

"april 22th, 1992. (=napoleone's age: 18 / cristoforo's age: 15)

i don't know what to say, nor why i did it. there's nothing i want to write here, if not that i messed up, when portia leaned in for a kiss and i backed off. she thought i was upset because she didn't want to sleep with me yet. the truth is, i just don't know if i love her anymore. it saddens me, she seems to love me a lot. or at least she's doing anything to keep me. in all honesty, i fear what would happen if i told her the truth, or worse, if i told my parents. i can't even ask for my friend's opinion. it would require telling him i ache for a kiss of his. and it feels wrong."

i can't hide these pages of my brother's diary hurt me. because i've already read it all, and it makes me furious.

however, napoleone soon found out everyone, portia included, had been using him the whole time, for her family's restaurant had been falling into bankruptcy due to debts with passione, a huge mafia. the plan was getting her married to napoleone, joining the families together, to start a good total income for the two families, being the de amarettis restaurant the best one in the city and the one with most success. the only obstacle so far, had been the debts to fulfill with the rival mafia.

but now, napoleone's heart created another obstacle. when he found out portia never really loved him, and that her family and his own parents played him like a fiddle for money, he stabbed with a dagger all the pages that contained words of affection towards her. or that spoke about her in any case. it took me a little to understand the missing pieces and restore the pages i showed a second ago, but i was able to fix them quite well.

the last piece of this chapter doesn't require his diary anymore, however. after stabbing it with a dagger, he never spoke about her again, in his diary. so, i'm gonna have to expose something i spied in secret.

he mentioned in the first diary page i showed here, that he felt almost as if his parents had started to care about him, after he got together with portia. but he soon learnt at his own expenses that it was just for money. of course, my brother tried to delete her from his mind, even if it was not possible. he even let a lot of anger off, in secret. but when our father saw him set himself up all elegant and good looking, more than he looked like when he used to hang with portia, he questioned really hard where he was gonna go.

napoleone always tried to stay outside with his special friend the most he could, he did not want to stay inside, seeing our family angered him, and seeing lady delphine angered him more, since she knew about it and never told him. he trusted her deeply for years, and she gave his trust away too.

however, my brother was just trying to go outside and spend an afternoon with his friend, when our father stopped him.

"who is it?" he just asked. straight to the point. napoleone could just freeze on the spot and turn around. our mother, olympia, was just in the next room, but as i was spying in secret, i'm sure she was listening just as much. "not only you ruin what your mother and i had planned for you, money and a wedding, but you also have the guts of setting yourself up and leaving like this. almost everyday, instead of studying. there must be someone. is she... rich?"

"no. can i go?"

"is she known?"

"i don't owe you answers. i really... just wanna go-" a loud, smacking sound. when my brother refused to answer for the second time, our father lost his patience. he always snapped. too quickly. i had never seen it before, though. napoleone was the one who always got caught into it. his cheek hurt immensely. his glasses flew off.

"you don't have the power you think you hold, leone. you disobey your mother and i, you leave a betrothed behind for a random lady, a poor underdog god knows where you found. you've always been an obedient kid. what are you doing of your life?"

"she's not an underdog. he- she- ... she is someone i value."

our father stared at him. immensely. for some seconds. my fifteen year old mind didn't get what had happened, i used to ask myself what was wrong with having a male friend, but my current mind does understand what the whole situation truly meant, enough to tell about it. napoleone had slipped on it, and our father wasn't so stupid to not to notice. in fact, he stared at napoleone with a disgusted expression for seconds that felt neverending. and then, whispered under his breath. "you filthy f****t. whose son are you? not mine, for sure."

don't make me write that fully. our father said that word to him, and i didn't know what it meant, when i was fifteen. but now i know, and it gives me chills to think about the scene. the scene of my father taking a handful of my brother's hair to kick his nose, insulting him and telling him he was a disappointment. it was the first time, i ever heard napoleone scream in agony. our father sometimes slapped us if we didn't behave, but he never got so far.

when we were younger, napoleone had little to no muscle. and he was definitely thinner than me. now, it's the contrary, but at the time, it really mattered. the scene continued under my - hidden - eyes and under my mom's gaze, until my brother had a seizure and could just lie on the ground, not reacting, not answering to anything.

"i will find your son's filthy friend." our father murmured in our mother's ear. and i don't know what happened afterwards. all i know, is that i saw my brother's eyes widen and move towards them, as if he heard them despite the ongoing seizure. and the day after, i witnessed him shooting our father in the head.

"june 5th, 1992. (=napoleone's age: 18 / cristoforo's age: 15)

no, no you won't."

it was the beginning of the end.

[kyidyl]

Kyidyl Explains Bones - Part 3

Well, I had this halfway done and then TUMBLR ATE IT, so let me start again.  UGH.  

(These posts are collected under the KyidylBones tag. Do with that information what you will, lol.) 

So what are we getting into today? Sex determination! 

Ethical Note: I’m adding this bc not everyone who sees this post saw my post yesterday and this is important info, especially on Tumblr.  Anthropologists of all stripes are well aware that sex and gender are extremely complicated.  Trust me, we know.  But we still do sex determination for a few reasons.  First, because missing persons databases are arranged on a male/female binary, and if we’re comparing a set of remains to that database to identify the remains then we need that info.  Second, demographic info for populations that have disappeared is important, even if those populations are historical.  This might shock you (<--sarcasm), but written records are usually either lacking or inaccurate.  Third, if we know the sex of the skeleton we can compare that to the grave goods and learn some interesting cultural things, including possibly being trans, because none of the signs of being trans survive physically in the skeleton.  So I am going to be using male/female binary language, but it isn’t to exclude the wide variety of sexes and genders that don’t exist on that binary, it’s because it’s what I’ve got to work with.  And if you have questions about this, feel free to ask, but please be respectful.  

Alright, so there are some vocab words for today’s post and I had them all nicely written out in an easy to read paragraph, but it got eaten, so I’m just gonna present them in list fashion this time: 

Characteristic - All physical markers of human variation exist on a spectrum because humans are varied and we invented the categories to begin with.  If something is characteristic of, say, a male? It means that it is very, very distinctly male.  It matches the stereotypical expectation of what you’d see in a male.  It’s a standard for an obvious example of a given thing.  

Landmark - A landmark on your bones is a feature of the bones that is always in the same place.  We use this to help us identify a bone and to help us know what side it is on.  IE, your lesser trochanter is a bump on your femur (thigh bone) that is on the inside towards the back.  It’s always in that spot, so we know which direction it should face and ergo which side it would be on.  Landmarks are unique to the bone in question.  

Foramen - A hole on a bone.  The big one in your skull that your spinal cord goes through is the foramen magnum and it literally means big hole.  But there are a lot of little ones all over your skeleton so your nerves and blood vessels can do to your skeleton what the weirwood did to Bryden Rivers.  I said what I said. ;) 

Bilateral - Both sides.  Humans have bilateral symmetry and so one side is symmetrical (externally and WRT your skeleton, but not always your organs.) to the other.  You can split us down the middle and the two sides are basically the same.  

Ok, so there’s another set of terms that you need to know, but I’m going to be copying and pasting this into every post going forward so I’m making it separate.  Anyone who works with any kind of anatomy uses these terms to be very specific about the location of something on the body.  They are: 

Anterior/Posterior - Front and back respectively.  I remember them because my mom used to say posterior when she didn’t want to say butt, and because A comes before P the way front comes before back.  Sometimes people say dorsal and ventral, and I remember that because a dorsal fin is on a whale’s back.  

Proximal/Distal - Near and far vertically in relationship to the center of your body.  I remember it because one end of the bone is in close proximity to me and the other one is distant.  

Medial/Lateral - Near and far horizontally in relationship to the center of your body.  I remember it because medial is closer to the middle of my body, and lateral isn’t medial.  Also, if you are reading left to right L comes before M and you’d get to a lateral body part before a medial one.  

So, where to begin? How do we know what sex people were assigned at birth from just their skeleton? Let’s start with what everyone is most familiar with: 

The Pelvis

The pelvis of an adult human is a really common thing for an archaeologist to find.  And by the time we find it, it’s usually in three pieces (excluding your tailbone aka last vertebra).  Your left and right hip bones, called the innominates, and your sacrum.  Mind you, the pelvis is made up of a number of bones, but they all fuse in adulthood except these three (fun fact: I’m so used to using the individual names for them that I had to *google* the word innominate.), so this is what we usually find.  If it’s a kid, they still survive well because they’re thick, heavy bones, but they aren’t fused.  Another fun fact, the bumps of bone that you feel under your ass are called your ischium and I’m only telling you that because I think it’s a fun word to say.  Your hop bones, like the actual entirety of the flat bladed part at the top, that’s called the Illium.  I like that word too.  Aaanyway, here’s a human pelvis: 

(Source)

These are actual bone specimens in the top down view, both are women, but they are of different ethnic origin.  

(Source)

This is a cast (IE, plastic), front view of a male pelvis.  

You can see those 3 pieces I’m talking about.  The only joint there that remains unfused is the sacroiliac joint, IE, where the two halves of the pelvis join the sacrum.  However! You sacrum is technically a series of fused vertebrae and your spinal cord runs almost all the way to the very tip.  There are some conditions which cause these not to fuse, or to not fuse properly, or to not properly encase the spinal cord and it causes all KINDS of issues.  But anyway, yeah, your sacrum is a really tough hunk of bone because it carries a lot of weight.  The bit in the front is called the pubic symphysis and, despite what certain tumblr posts would have you believe, having children does NOT leave a notch on the inner side of it from the muscle tearing away tiny chunks of the bone.  In fact, it is hotly debated whether or not pregnancy leaves behind any skeletal evidence at all.  

Alright, so basically speaking, females make da babies and males don’t, so the different equipment is differently shaped......

.....wait, no, that’s not right.  Let’s back up.  Male and female humans are differently proportioned and their center of gravity is, on average, different.  This is the whole thing about men having upper body strength and women having thighs that can crush watermelons.  This is on *average* (I will be saying a lot about averages in these posts.) true.  And so the physics of the forces exerted on your bones is different.  Males are top-heavy, and so their pelvis is shaped in response to their gate and muscle structure because the pelvis supports and distributes the weight of your entire body.  And bipedalism means that the shape of the pelvis is very, very different depending on the weight distribution.  These changes to the pelvis are really obvious, which is why we can tell from just a few bones whether or not a hominin was bipedal.  It changes the *entire* body.  

It is true though that the pelvis of a female is different than a male, because a female pelvis has to be able to support the weight of a developing child while still allowing the individual to walk.  So the interaction of average size, a uterus, and the bipedal gate means that male and female pelvises are a different shape.  

Here is a comparison: 

(Source)

So firstly, that angle is called the sub-public angle, and because a females pelvis is wider and flatter than a male’s (when viewed from the front) it’s wider in the front.  This also gives any babies more room.  Secondly, you can see the difference in the tilt of the sacrum - in the female you can’t see the tailbone.  This, again, is due to the confluence of weight distribution and the necessity of passing a baby’s head through that space.  It would be a lot harder to push it out if you had a tailbone in the way.  Lastly, you can see that the shape of the circle when you look top down and bottom up are different - wider on the woman because of the same reasons I’ve already mentioned.  There is one more major difference between the male and female pelvis, and that’s the sciatic notch: 

(Source)

Characteristic of male on the left, intermediate in the middle, and female on the right (and dang, she was young, too.).  Thinner is male, wider is female.  Usually you can fit your thumb in a female’s notch but barely or not at all in a male.  I personally find the subpubic arch and the sciatic notch the easiest to use because, fun fact #2, those 3 sections are a bitch to hold together with your hands and that makes it hard to see the other shapes.  The amount of sacrums and pelvic bones I’ve accidentally dropped while trying to determine sex....it’s a lot, ok? It’s a lot.  I only have two hands and pelvises are big.  

There are also several less obvious ways of determining sex from a skeleton, so you guys should definitely visit the source for the above image because they go into it deeper and there are several excellent images of public bones.  

So how else do we determine sex? The next easiest way is from the skull, because the features are distinct and skulls survive well.  

The Skull

In my opinion the easiest landmark to use on a skull for sex determination is the jaw.  There are several features of the jaw that can be used here - and, mind you, when determining sex we measure every small and large sex-linked feature according to a scale and then average it all out.  We never look at any single thing (although sometimes the individual has something so characteristic that you can’t help it.  The individual in my position has a brow like a neanderthal, so it was pretty obvious.).  Anyway, there are several features here but the easiest is to look at the shape of the lateral distal posterior portion of the jaw.  It’s called the masseteric tuberosity.  Basically, it’s a little bit of bone that sticks out of the back of your jaw.  It’s one of the attachment points of the masseter aka chewing muscles attach.  Because males have stronger muscles pulling on that part of the jaw and exerting more force, it flares out further for them when you look at it from the front, like this: 

(Source)

It’s that sticky-outy thing thing that I circled in red.  Here is an example of the same thing on females: 

(Source)

Female jaws are rounder, and so that bit is less defined, flares out less, and is not as sharp as it is on males.  And this is a reminder that these measures aren’t absolutes - humans have a lot of variance in them.  The female asian and the male on the right both have somewhat atypical structures, while the female european and the two other males have a very characteristic structure.  

The two other easiest to identify are the shape of the brown line and the shape of the chin (the mental protuberance).  Here is an image of the comparison: 

(Source: Pinterest, but this images are from the Human Bone Manual text that I use and I used this image so I wouldn’t have to make my own. :P) 

You can see in the profile that the female skull has a higher, more vertical forehead with less pronounced brow ridges.  If you look, you can also see that her chin protrudes less in profile, and is softer and less pronounced in the frontal view.  The angle under her teeth is less severe.  

So these three things, the chin, the brow, and the jaw, are the easiest to identify the most likely to be characteristic of the sex of the individual.  But, if you compare the images I’ve used here you’ll also notice that there are other differences in the skull.  Females have more of a slope to the bottom of their jaw, the bump on the back of their heads (the occipital protuberance) tends to be far less pronounced; and this is the case for all muscle attachments generally speaking.  On average, males are more easily able to build muscle mass and are larger, and so their muscles pull harder on their skeletons and create larger muscle attachments.  The round, blunt thing to the right of the back of the jaw that sticks out from the skull (the mastoid process), is also at a different angle and is larger in males.  This is another case of the muscles being bigger and stronger - the mastoid process is where several of your jaw and neck muscles attach.  

There you have it, then.  The easiest ways to tell the sex of a skeleton.  :) 

This post has been approved by Gage the science doggo: 

[scarabbai]

Adeptus Fragile! Handle with Care.

Rating: T

Relationships: Ganyu & Xiao | Alatus, Xiao | Alatus & Zhongli, Ganyu & Zhongli, etc.

Fic Summary:

Centuries have passed since the age of the Traveler and their companions, and the immortals of Teyvat—or what’s left of them—have moved on, living modern lives in modern times. The adepti of Liyue are no exception.

But when something rather unexpected happens, their modern life begins to get a little... too modern. One sunny morning, the great Conqueror of Demons, an accomplished senior in the ranks of the Adepti, wakes up and looks at the world with innocent eyes.

“Who am I?”

Archons, someone give poor Ganyu a break...

-

Chapter 1:

In which Xiao wakes up

AO3 Link

The first thought that comes to him when he wakes up is: Fuck, my head hurts.

The second one comes after, when he pulls the sheets tighter around himself and buries his face in his pillow with a groan: I don’t want to get up.

The third slams into him just as he’s about to fall back asleep: Wait, where am I?

He bolts upright in bed, shaking the sleep out of his eyes like a wet dog shaking out its fur. He regrets it when it only makes his headache worse, but the fact that he doesn’t recognize any of his surroundings when his eyes do a quick sweep of the room overshadows that.

Alright, this is fine. Everything is fine. Remain calm. Remain calm, uh...

The realization crashes down on him like a wave, leaving him cold and shivering.

He doesn’t even know his own name.

Okay. Okay, you know what? He can do this. He can work with this. First things first: get situated.

He makes a move to get out of bed, but with his legs tangled in the sheets, it ends with him taking a rather ungraceful tumble instead. His face burns with embarrassment when he lands on the floor with a thud, reduced to nothing more than a balled up heap of limbs. Frustrated, he kicks and struggles blindly, but it only gets him more jumbled up. He’s like a cat trying and failing to escape a blanket cocoon.

He huffs. Mortals and their needlessly irritating fabrics...

Wait, what? Where did that come from? He scrunches up his face in confusion, puzzled by his own thoughts.

Thankfully, he doesn’t need to think much more about it when he hears a knock at the door.

“Xiao,” calls a voice from outside the room, and his head snaps toward the sound. Shit, someone’s here. “Xiao, are you alright in there? I heard a loud noise.”

He doesn’t respond, not trusting his own ability to speak. What should he say? What should he do? And why is that voice, of all things, so familiar? It’s comforting, despite having no idea who it belongs to.

The knocking comes again, more insistent this time. “Xiao,” the voice repeats, firmer but concerned. “If you don’t say anything, I’m coming in!”

He struggles harder in response, but his awkward flailing gets him nowhere. He slumps in defeat. Apparently, this is his life. Whoever he is, bested by a very long and very tangled roll of cloth.

When the door opens, he freezes. A girl with light blue hair steps into the room. She has a gentle and earnest look to her despite the worry written all over her face, and...

Are those horns on her head?

There must be some kind of next level pathetic expression on his face because when she glances over and sees him looking the way he does on the floor, her first reaction isn’t laughter. Instead, she gasps in horror and rushes over, kneeling down and fretting over him in a way that makes him tense up and abandon the idea of wriggling free. He shrinks away and hides his face from her big, purple-pink-whatever colored eyes—they make him feel guilty, somehow.

“Xiao, what’s going on? What happened?” She reaches out but seems to rethink her decision, pulling her hand back before it can touch him. Is he poisonous or something? “It must be the karmic debt again... I’ll call Zhongli, he’ll know what to do.”

She’s back on her feet almost instantly, but before she can turn and leave, some unknown impulse—fear? Loneliness? Just the need for an explanation?—has him reaching out.

“Wait,” he pleads, and the sound of his own voice surprises him somehow. “Don’t go...”

The words stop her in her tracks. He can’t identify the emotion in her eyes when she slowly leans down again to take in his teary-eyed expression, but he thinks it might be uncertainty. Or suspicion? Maybe it’s just intense focus. He’s not sure what that something is, but he’s pretty sure now that he’s bad at reading people.

With that same look of scrutiny on her face, she cautiously reaches out and places a hand on his forehead. Her skin is cold to the touch, and he fights the urge to flinch away. He’s learning very quickly that he’s unused to physical contact.

Despite this, something inside him relaxes as the coolness spreads from his head to the rest of his body. She’s trustworthy, he decides. He may not know who she is or why her presence is so soothing, but he knows this.

Is she family? She feels like family. He does have a family, right?

A thoughtful—and somewhat displeased—hum breaks him out of his thoughts. Expression blank but eyes curious, he blinks up at her while she puts her hand to her chin and frowns at him. She seems troubled.

“Xiao–” She cuts herself off, worrying her lower lip in uncertainty. Dimly, he realizes she’s been referring to him by that the whole time—Xiao might be his name. “You’re... acting a bit strange this morning. And you came stumbling home last night, and you went to sleep when you never do, and...”

She sighs. Heavily. She sounds so distressed it makes him feel a bit sick in solidarity.

“I don’t mean to pry or overstep, but...” She pauses, unsure, and that inexplicable feeling of guilt returns to him in her brief silence. “Are you alright? I think there might be something wrong...” A look of alarm crosses her face, and she quickly backpedals. “Not with you, of course! I’m just saying...” She fidgets a little, but when she meets his eyes this time, her resolve seems stronger. “I’m just saying if you’ve gotten into any trouble, you can tell me. I’ll do my best to help, wherever I can. It’s the least I could do.”

He stares at her in response. She stares back, wilting a little.

Definitely family, he concludes. A doting older sister, perhaps.

Awkwardly, he realizes her silence means he should answer her somehow, but instead of replying with something intelligent or actually explaining himself, all his stupid mouth blurts is, “Good morning. Are you my big sister?”

He immediately wants to bury himself.

While she balks, caught off guard by his clearly uncharacteristic statement, he panics. More foolish nonsense spills out of his mouth, and between her confused spluttering and his inability to form proper words, their attempted conversation dissolves into an unrecognizable mess of half-formed sounds. It’s as if he isn’t used to speaking or hasn’t spoken in a long time, and this failed speech of his is making up for it.

In the end, none of what they attempted to say was actually comprehensible. He takes one look at the pure confusion—and maybe even a little horror, but he has a hard time telling—written all over her face and knows he has to try again. It appears he’s bad with words as well. Shame and frustration settle in his chest at this discovery.

The first thing he manages to come up with is, “Sorry.” He buries his face in the fabric wrapped around him, feeling small. “I don’t... know what’s happening,” he admits, and he hopes the note of fear in his voice is muffled. “I don’t remember anything. I don’t know who you are.” His eyes sting with tears. Suddenly, he feels pathetic. “I don’t even know who I am...”

Saying it out loud breaks something inside him—it all feels so much more real now, and he‘s so confused, so lost. What is he supposed to do? Who was he? Why did this happen? Frantic thoughts swell like rising water within him, and he sobs, drowning. He doesn’t know. He just doesn’t know.

The question that says it all falls from his lips like tears:

“Who am I?”

- - -

Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad.

She doesn’t know what she expected from this morning, but it certainly wasn’t this. It certainly wasn’t waking up to find Xiao—whom she greatly respects—in... whatever state it is he’s in.

He had called her big sister. Her! The big sister! The sheer disbelief she felt at those words—if anything, Xiao is the senior. His rank in adeptal affairs is higher than hers despite their ages, and their interactions have always reflected this. And if that wasn’t jarring enough, what he revealed next sent her reeling.

No memories. None at all. Can you believe that? The Conqueror of Demons with sudden amnesia? What is this? What has her life come to?

She realizes, belatedly, that Xiao is crying. He’s crying right now in front of her when he had never once showed an ounce of vulnerability before her in the past, and the sight is shocking.

Well, no time to lose. She has to do something, even if she’s not sure what exactly it is she should do.

Swallowing down her nerves, she tries to sound as gentle and reassuring as possible when she shushes him and murmurs, soothingly, “It’ll be alright, Xiao, it’ll be alright... You’ll be okay.”

As she says this, she awkwardly reaches down and—the act kills her a little inside—pats Xiao lightly on the head. Despite his sobbing, he calms slightly. That alone is enough to make her nerves fade just a little, and she takes the opportunity to help him out of the blanket bundle he’s gotten himself into. With careful hands, she unwraps the sheets tangled around his body, peeling away layer after layer until he goes from sad spring roll to just Xiao.

As she pulls back to assess her handiwork, it really strikes her how... small Xiao is.

He hasn’t gotten any shorter or thinner, his facial features are unchanged, and overall he looks the same as he did yesterday, but the way he holds himself now makes all the difference. His emotions are out in the open as he wipes at his tears, his heart unburdened by memory, his eyes innocent. Without the millenniums of suffering and coldness that defined him, he feels so young.

He’s just a boy, she thinks as she pulls him into a hug. He resists at first but settles into the embrace soon after, resting his chin on her shoulder. Mindful of the way he shakes with quieting sniffles, she rubs little circles into his back. The action seems to soothe him.

Ganyu considers the situation. This is okay, actually. This is alright. Zhongli-dàrén will help her figure out what has happened to Xiao when they go to him, but she can handle this for now. She can manage this.

Responsibility is a self assigned fate that has always fit her like a glove, and this is just another to add to her list of duties. Surely it won’t be that hard to look after her new little brother?

“Your name is Xiao,” she begins, voice soft. “I’m Ganyu.”

She feels rather than sees the nod Xiao gives in response. It makes her smile as she pets his hair.

“And you’re right, Xiao-dìdì. I’m your big sister, and I’ll take care of you.”