#The details on foul legacy man

[phyneire]

Doing gods work

[theactualsunshinechild]

I have this incredibly specific WrioChi scenario rotating around in my head that I have to throw out there before it drives me insane. Imagine the following:

Childe seeing Wriothesley walking out of his office, calling out to him, and leaping right off the second floor of the administrative zone at him, and Wriothesley panicking and dropping everything in his arms to catch him and then reprimanding him to "Stop DOING that, you brat!!!" And Childe is just like "but it's fun and you always catch me!"

"I should let you drop," Wriothesley grumbles, though his hold doesn't loosen. If anything, Childe feels his grip tighten slightly as the redhead pretends to contemplate the possibility.

"Mmmm..." he hums thoughtfully, "well, I guess I'll have to hope I land on my feet!" The shrug that follows gets the Duke's brows to twitch lightly on his otherwise stone cold expression.

"You'll break your legs from that height." His grip tightens again. Childe grins. He knows this of course. Vision users have tougher bodies, so he'd have to land wrong, but breaking a bone was a very real possibility. However, he'd heal it off relatively quickly, especially compared to the havoc his Foul Legacy wreaks upon his body, and it was a risk he was willing to take. Not only did Childe have plenty of trust in his own body's capabilities and expertise in executing dangerous drops and cushioning rolls safely, but:

"You will never let that happen." Childe's confident reply echoes in the nonexistent space between them, reverberating through Wriothesley's bones.

"I just told you, I will let you fall," Wriothesley scowls down at him. His grip is a little painful, but his voiced threat is rendered ineffective against Childe, who smiles, softer this time, the sharp teasing corners tempered by the concern that was pacing a visible hole through the frost of the other's gaze.

"You told me you should, Your Grace, but your eyes say you won't." For a second those same eyes widen at his words, and Childe knows he hit the nail on the head. He grins in delight as Wriothesley averts his gaze silently, confirming it further.

For a man who was once meant to keep him captive and kept so many secrets, the Warden was a terribly easy man to trust in.

Childe was never a fan of... relying on others. It wasn't really in his playbook, couldn't be, with the kind of profession he was in, the coworkers he worked with. Physically, letting any part of his plans fall on anyone else's shoulders always came with a threat of failure and fatality. Emotionally, the idea of letting people close to him, like his family, in on his worries was even more devastating. Frankly, letting anyone else into his heart and head was always going to be out of the question. Or so he thought.

The Traveler, was one such newcomer into Childe's limited circle. And when they both found themselves in Fontaine once again for one reason or another, the Traveler, ever the networking expert, introduced him to Wriothesley over a cup of the Duke's fine tea. Introduced was, admittedly, a strong word for a situation in which Wriothesley already had his name, family's names, occupation, and detailed criminal record on file. It was a jarring experience to say the least, to have a complete stranger ask after the well-being of his siblings, but at the end of the day, he could finally put a face to the grand title he had heard so many times during his stint in the prison. Even with the amount of reverence people spoke of their Duke with, Childe had been unprepared for the kind of person he really was in the flesh.

Shrewd and cautious, stomping out problems quickly and efficiently. Polite and charismatic, yet tangibly dangerous and unafraid to resort to brutality when his hand was forced. Wriothesley was nothing if not reliable; he protected his values and people with a steadfast viciousness that Childe recognized intimately -- an indomitable, resolute determination that matched his own.

It seemed like there was nothing thrown his way that Wriothesley couldn't handle, and Childe couldn't help but want to test the limits. Posing himself as the world's most difficult problem to solve was an endeavor that came quite naturally to the Harbinger, but perhaps it was Childe's limits that had truly been tested.

Wriothesley had stepped up to the challenge before him and, while neither had expected to tumble into bed together in the process, it had not been unwelcome. Under the Duke's attentive gaze and steady hands Childe found himself being taken apart piece by piece and reconstructed into a version of himself that felt lighter somehow. It was months later that Childe lay awake with the realization that the lightness came with the missing pieces, the shards of his long-fragmented heart that Wriothesley gently pried out from his scars and bones and swallowed down diligently to keep them safe inside himself. And yet, Childe had never felt more whole.

He had come to trust Wriothesley to a degree he could have never even imagined. It was... less frightening than it should have been to have someone hold his heart this way. To have someone he felt so completely safe with. Childe knew that on a physical level he was the overall stronger fighter from their spars, but this did not take away from the serene sense of security Wriothesley's presence gave him. To put it simply, Wriothesley was someone he found himself comfortable with. He was someone who did not judge him at face value, but rather worked to understand his behaviors on a level Childe could never recall anyone bothering to do. Even now, it felt as though the other had already figured out Childe's motivations on a deeper level than Childe himself.

The Duke looks at him again, this time his eyes alight with a streak of mischief that makes Childe's pulse skip a beat in anticipation.

"...Tell you what, if you stop throwing yourself off the mezzanines, I'll reward you."

"A reward from the Duke himself? Must be quite generous!~" Childe fishes coyly for any further information with a lash lidded look and his fingers playing with Wriothesley's tie. The wolfish grin the Duke gives him in response sends a spark flickering down his spine. Wriothesley sets him down, one hand settling familiarly on his hip as the other comes up to tilt his chin up to hold his gaze.

"You'll have to find out, won't you? Although you can rest assured I am a firm believer in paying people what they are owed." Wriothesley's eyes glitter with promise, keeping Childe's breath hostage in the back of his throat. No precise details, huh? Well, Childe is a curious man by nature, so this suits him just fine; the intrigue adds to the fun of it all.

"I'll take you up on that then, Your Grace. I'll make sure to be a good boy for the duration of this visit, and we'll see if your reward is satisfactory enough for me to behave next time, " he teases lightly, and Wriothesley huffs a sharp chuckle of amusement through his nose, giving Childe's hip an affectionate squeeze of agreement before letting go to go pick up what he had dropped earlier to catch him.

Childe missed his touch already.

[cuffmeinblack]

Azkaban. A fortress to hold the foulest of wizardkind, meant to keep us safe from their wrath. Yet for all we know of Azkaban, there is much more that remains hidden—a deep well of corruption rooted in government to hide the true horrors of the prison and its nightmarish keepers. Garreth Weasley is the first prisoner to walk free from its walls in centuries. As he tries to pick up his life from where he left off, he soon realises that his imprisonment has reshaped the man he once was. Battered and broken, he draws on the strength of a friend to right the wrongs he's suffered. In matters of justice and those of the heart, will truth finally out?

Garreth Weasley x f!OC (Adanna Egwe)

Tags: explicit | friends to lovers | dark themes | trauma

Prologue

Garreth took a tentative step towards his salvation, one foot in front of the other on quaking legs. They shook with fear, both inflicted and for what awaited him outside the towering stone walls. Malnourishment had set in months ago, withering his muscles and the spritely step he once held. Gone was the layer of healthy fat from years of Hogwarts’ delicious fare, and long had faded the glow of his skin, leaving only a palid complexion and freckles that looked more grey than golden. He didn't know this, of course—Azkaban didn't have mirrors, or bathrooms for that matter, only buckets and hard walls and harder floors—but he felt it in his bones and the way the woman now looked at him.

The first person to see him after the long nine months was not his mother, father or various siblings—it was a Ministry worker, unnamed and uncaring. The stout woman looked at him blandly without so much as a sympathetic nod, her lip curling faintly in what looked like disgust. Didn't she know? He was innocent! Garreth supposed she might not be privy to the details, assumed he'd been released on some technicality. A murderer walking free deserved no sympathy, no kindness. She kept her distance and waved him forward, the blazing white of her deer patronus keeping the foul creatures that had tormented him at bay. The cloaked figures of his nightmares lashed out, displeased to be losing their sustenance, only to be buffeted away by the powerful magic. The closer he walked towards her, the lighter he felt. A heavy blanket of despair was gradually peeled away and memories seeped through the edges. Smiles, laughter, a kiss, the smell of apple pie and the freshness of Spring. And then the air shimmered as he entered the deer's embrace, emotions he thought long buried flooded back in one great tidal wave that almost knocked him flat on his back. He remembered hope, once a constant companion that had been suffocated within a few weeks of entering the great fortress behind him.

“Steady, now.” The woman watched him stumble but made no attempt to help him. Garreth thought she moved to offer a steadying hand, instead it plunged into her pocket. He stood within arm's length of her now, could see every line of her face and the hint of warmth in her eyes that she didn't offer to Garreth. He felt suddenly self-conscious—a rarity for him—as he became more aware of his unwashed hair and filthy nails. He must have smelled vile. So distracted with his own dismal appearance, he almost missed her hand hovering between them. Atop her palm, a square of chocolate sat. He could smell the rich aroma permeating the damp and salty sea air, and he salivated. “Take it. It will take the edge off.” She jerked her head towards the dementors still straining against the patronus’ shield. “The portkey leaves in thirty seconds.”

Garreth took the chocolate and shoved it in his mouth with little decorum, savouring the rich cocoa as it melted on his tongue and coated his mouth. He'd not tasted anything so delectable, though he knew it was likely the cheapest the Ministry could source. A far cry from the gruel that had barely kept him alive. The woman bent to pick up what Garreth assumed was his ticket out of this hellhole—a small gold pocketwatch of which the hands twitched back and forth with no progress. The time read one o’clock or thereabouts, yet judging by the stormy grey sky and waning light, Garreth put it closer to six. He was pretty sure it was now Autumn, though there were no trees with their copper hued leaves to confirm his suspicions. All he saw now was grey rock, grey sky and turbulent waves, all desaturated as if the dementors were not only capable of sucking the happiness from the landscape but the colour too.

“Ten seconds.”

Garreth placed his hand over the pocketwatch and the woman clasped him firmly, the cold metal warming between their palms. She herself was warm, her skin soft against his own calloused and clammy fingers. With a jolt, Garreth realised that this was the first human contact he'd had since entering the prison all that time ago. The last had been his mother desperately reaching for him as he was dragged by chains from the courtroom deep below the Ministry. She'd stroked his cheek and told him not to worry before he slipped into darkness, her tear-streaked face etched into memory.

“Five, four, three, two…”

On one, Garreth felt a pull behind his navel and he lurched forward with dizzying speed into the abyss, only to emerge and fall promptly to his knees. His bones hit cobblestones strewn with leaves and he doubled over, retching and gasping for air. Whilst his head swam, he heard voices, cries and screams. He thought this was a cruel trick, that he'd been taunted with the promise of freedom only to be deposited back in Azkaban for some sick amusement. They grew louder as the black spots cleared in his vision and he realised that they weren't cries of pain and hopeless wails—these were shouts of excitement, relief. They called his name and he managed to peer up into the sunset to find familiar faces crowding him. He was home at last, surrounded by countless copper manes and freckled grins, and two figures that hung back, different from the rest. Natty, he recognised by her flawless dark complexion and glittering smile, and the woman next to her by the way his heart leapt at the sight of her. She was here. She'd not forgotten.

He was barely aware of anything the woman from the Ministry was saying as hands pulled him inside the cottage and Charlotte—his dear little sister—was babbling on about such nonsense that Garreth couldn't help but laugh. The sound was strange to him and his voice was weak, so weak. His vocal chords seemed to struggle and creak like something old and long-abandoned, groaning back to life. “You're all here…,” he managed to say before a wave of exhaustion crashed into him.

“Give him some room. Charlotte, Hector, enough. He needs to rest. Oh welcome home, Garreth…”

Mum. She wrapped him up in his arms and he felt ten years old again. Here he was finally safe and loved, though almost inexplicably as if he didn't deserve it. His brother clutched an arm and helped him up the stairs that creaked less noticeably under his newly lithe form. More chocolate found its way into his hand, this square much silkier with chunks of honeycomb that stuck to his teeth. As soon as his head hit the pillow—his pillow—he drifted off to sleep and had his first nightmare-free slumber in months. He didn't dream at all, only surrendered to the sweet silence and infinite dark.

[bladesandstars]

Tell me more about your favorite Genshin ships. Tell me more about your favorite dynamics. Tell me about your favorite characters. Tell me about the stories you've got stuck in your head, waiting for an outlet. TELL ME. 0u0

Okay, this got so INCREDIBLY long. Thank you so much for asking! I'm gonna keep this post to everyone's favorite rock grandpa, though I do love many other characters and ships. Here we go:

Zhongli

I am probably the most excited about him as a character. He's sweet and funny and angsty and complex and potentially terrifying based on his past. I love him. I want to write him all the things. Details below. Spoilers abound, up through Fontaine and including Zhongli's character quest.

- the concept of erosion is so good from a writing perspective. I particularly like this juxtaposed with Neuvillette, who is supposed to be gaining information and serving as a memory for humanity. But I also love it with Baizhu, who is eroding in his own way and presumably much faster.

- war god Zhongli is wonderful. I envision writing him with Xiao here, because their canon interactions are so good. There's also Azhdaha, who breaks my heart every time I think about it. The flavor of writing that ship before and up until Zhongli does what he needs to do? Delicious. But also Guizhong? Canon is ambiguous but I do hc him as smitten and in love with her - the plains bear their ship name and I'm emo about it. (She tops. Lmao. I'm still getting used to the fierce t/b tagging in this fandom - I do my best to be polite, but my brain loves to switch everyone so it's hard.) 

- flashes of former war god with Childe is sucha  delicious concept as well. Something about their contrasts - I can see why they have the fandom in a chokehold. I'm there too. Zhongli's ancient presence, having experienced so many things, slow to anger but so powerful in his anger - next to young hothead Childe who wants to Fight Everyone but still has that "what happened to you in the Abyss, son" mystery and Foul Legacy complexity to him. And he's a good af fighter and I love an ancient being surprised by a relative newcomer.

- Ningguang. My favorite ship for her is Beidou, but Zhongli having a deep, quiet respect for her that grows into something more is so good. He thanks her for taking such good care of the city, she shows him around his human body a lil....it's good. If the Jade Chamber is a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'.

- this doesn't even include the age-old Venti shenanigans or how I think the old man would deal with someone like Kaeya or Alhaitham, both very funny in different ways.

[maegalkarven]

Homecoming

The third part of the Empty Prayers AU.

They are home, but Baldur's Gate is nothing Wyll remembers it to be.

Characters: Wyll Ravengard, Shadowheart, Enver Gortash, Nemo (Durge), Jaheira, Karlach, Astarion.

Dark Urge x Gortash.

Wyll's POV.

The city is quiet.

It’s the first thing Wyll notices, how quiet Baldur’s Gate is, almost unnaturally so.

This is not how it should be, not how Wyll remembers his city.

The streets should buzz with the sound; even at night there should be the echo of steps, someone having a brawl in the nearest inn, some criminal individual skidding about, some poor soul retching in the ditch. There should be a low, unmistakable hum of the city being alive. Baldur’s Gate, city of many, city of all. Criminals and respectful citizens side by side, the most beautiful gardens of the Upper City and the foulest smell of the sewers.

The Gate.

This not how Wyll imagined his return.

In his dreams, the deepest, most sacred of them, so secured even Mizora couldn’t get a grip on, he saw himself a hero returning home; with victory, with salvation.

Wyll saw his father pardoning him, embracing, hailing a true hero of Baldur’s Gate. He saw himself standing tall and proud in front of the patriarchs of the city and not being ashamed of who he was.

Sneaking into the city like thieves in the night was not in his dreams.

His father, exhausted, strained by the knowledge of things passed and things yet to come, was not in his dreams.

Fighting the losing battle against the Elder Brain crowned with Karsus’ infamous creation was not in them.

Allying himself with the men personally crowning said brain was...was unimaginable, really.

And yet working alongside the two former cult leaders is the best chance they have. Wyll has spend endless hours in conversations with his father about this; appealing to his sense of duty, his responsibilities to the city, his honor.

Wyll knows both Gortash and Nemo are awful people. He has met his fair share of the scum and recognizes it when he sees it. If things were different, if both of the men have not fallen from grace, then... Then they would be the enemy, and of the worst, foul kind. The clever, sophisticated kind of the enemy who knows they do wrong, but can’t seem to particularly care.

Wyll still isn’t sure how much they can actually rely on Enver Gortash, not to mention trust him. He rather agrees with Karlach’s assessment what trusting the man would be a fool’s play. But urgent need for survival pulls together and turns into allies even the strangest types of men.

And not all villains had the choice to begin with.

Wyll knows Nemo is convinced he is a being of pure evil, the Murder Incarnate, the Worst of them all. He also knows Nemo doesn’t feel slighted by that, it is his destiny, after all. It is what he was made for.

Made.

Not even born, Bhaal could not allow him even that small slither of grace. No, his friend was literally sculpted from the dead flesh of the dead god. Then, if Nemo’s recollecting is to be trusted, he was entrusted into the care of no one but Sarevok Anchev, who then proceeded to raise a boy as the true heir to their Father’s bloody legacy.

Wyll shudders at the way Nemo casually recounts his past, how he brushes over the awful details with practiced ease of someone who doesn’t see anything wrong in that.

And how could he? Who was there to explain to him that what his Father and then his brother did to him was awful? Who was there to tell the child, beaten bloody, what this ‘training’ Sarevok put him through was not humane? It was ruthless, it was unkind, and it was brought on a but a babe.

"The pureblood child of the Bhaal should be perfect," he remembers Nemo commenting, not understanding the level of horror Wyll felt, not seeing why would he even be horrified by that. "It should be stripped of any weakness, any chains society would gladly press on it. All Bhaal’s child is – His vessel, His hand, the blade striking in His name. It doesn’t have the personality, better yet no will of its own. It is Father born anew. It is His second coming. It is the maw what will devour the world."

How Nemo turned up being as sane as he is now is a mystery, all things considered. He was destined to be nothing.

Wyll will gladly help his friend to break out of this bloody destiny.

Which leads his thought to the unkind revelation to why the said child of Bhaal even started to break out of his fate. Or because of whom.

Nemo is almost sewn to the failed tyrant’s side these days; the dark shadow behind Gortash’s frame, hushed whisper into his ear, steady hand on the man’s forearm.

Wyll would think it to be suffocating if not for the way Gortash stands straighter at the touch, looks surer of himself, smugger, more unbearable.

They bring the worst into each other. They keep each other afloat.

Wyll remembers the first several days after the Moonrise Towers. He remembers Nemo disappearing into Gortash’s tent every night, emerging in the morning with the image of tiredness stitched up his face. Gortash didn’t look any better, the signs of exhaustion lying low in the dark shadows under his eyes, in the crease of his mouth, in the wrinkles on his forehead. Somehow everyone knew nothing lewd was taking place, what the two failed chosen simply guarded each other against the world.

As if the world was the enemy.

As if traveling with them has not shown Nemo what the world is a much kinder place than what he was taught to believe. As if they were not allies, were not friends.

Wyll knows the revelation of Nemo’s true identity, of his past had to cost him greatly. He remembers this confession as if it was yesterday.

***

He remembers Nemo’s fists opening and closing, helpless in the painful need to strike at someone. He remembers the half-elf taking his shirt off – for the first time showing them his naked chest – and he remembers the awful, stark revelation it brought.

The scars like those do not appear out of nowhere. The scars like those are left on the bodies forgone autopsy. Dead bodies.

And yet these scars bite into Nemo’s skin even now.

“I...I don’t remember who she was,” the bhaalspawn murmured then, voice low and dark. “But I remember her face and I’m sure I’d recognize her if we were to meet again. I am convinced she is a myrkulite and what she is somewhere in these Towers.”

“That’s not all,” he interrupted then Wyll opened his mouth to say something, maybe offer comfort, as futile as that attempt would be. “She was not the one to put tadpole into my brain. That was my sister.”

“Your sister?” Gale’s voice raised the octave. “Why would she do that?”

A smirk, a dark shadow of a smile, lips baring white teeth in a grimace what looks strained, forced upon.

“Because our father told her to,” a pause. “Our Father, Lord Bhaal.”

It quickly fell into dreadful silence then, no one knowing what to say, no one knowing what to believe in.

Wyll personally hadn't felt betrayed, shocked, yes, but not wronged.

He understood the heavy weight of a dark secret; he had one. Wyll has lived for seven long years with his lips sealed.

But Wyll would understand if the others would have different reaction. If anything, Nemo seemed to expect it.

Nemo tried to continue with the confession.

Yes, he was a bhaalspawn, but the kind of which no one saw before. He was a pure Bhaalspawn. There’s not a drop of mortal blood in him, not a drop of essence what is not of his father’s. He wasn’t born. He was made. And for the last thirty years he was the leader of the Church of Bhaal.

Thirty years. That gave Wyll a pause, and it seemed he wasn’t the only one.

“How old are you exactly?” Astarion, the resident old-timer of their ragtag bunch of misfits, inquired.

“Fifty,” came out an easy response. “I became the leader my Father wanted me to be at the ripe age of nineteen. It’s been an endless road of improvement since then, until...” A wild gesture around.

“I...I did not fail, you have to understand. I do not fail. It’s just...Father does not tolerate a straying thought. For the last thirty years I was careful with what I do and how I do it, careful to not bring his wrath on me. I was...probably the unconventional leader, I admit, but everything I did made the Church grow bigger, stronger, better. Everything but-“ he looked down. “I am not supposed to care, you see? About anything or anyone. I should only think of murder, of blood, of my Father’s goal.”

“But you care,” Karlach looked pained as she stepped forward. Carefully, as if approaching a wild beast, but surely still. “You care about us. I know, even if you try to downplay it. You care about things.”

Nemo took a shaky step back.

“I know,” came sounding worse the admittance than of his bloody legacy. How admitting you care could be worse than that? “But do you know when I started to care? Or when I realized I do, in fact, care?”

“When?”

“You will hate the next part.”

“I already hate every part of what you’ve said,” she let out a pained laugh. “How worse can it be?”

The bhaalspawn smiled the kind of smile what promised more disaster to come.

“Nine years ago,” he let out. “I was approached by the man named Enver Gortash. He had,” a movement to intercept whatever Karlach was about to say. “He had information about the Hall of Wonders,” a glance to Wyll. “You probably know of that, the disgraceful display of my brothers and sisters, put upon view like trophies. Well, I didn’t like that. And Gortash, he...offered the way in. A help, in kind.”

“Trust me when I say he would never offer any help just for the sake of it,” Karlach seethed. “He wanted something-“

“And he got it. That and more,” Nemo looked as if he was forcing himself to stay still, burning under the piercing stare of the Fury of Avernus. “We became allies. Did all sort of thing, the two of us. Planned, schemed. Broke into Methistar,” a proud little grin. “Stole the crown of Karsus.”

“You stole what?!” Gale, clearly familiar with the thing.

“-And put it on the Elder Brain,” oh fuck, Wyll didn’t like there it was leading. “Used the netherstones from the crown to control it. Started our own world domination plan.”

“And then your sister stabbed you.”

“And then my sister stabbed me. Because my father told her to. Because I started to care.”

“For what?” Karlach was hardly seen through the flames wrapping around her in waves. “For who?”

“We were perfect together,” Nemo stared straight ahead. “We were indestructible. We were meant to rule the world as the gods of new age. We were-“

“The name,” Karlach seethed. “I don’t want bloody details; just prove my worst fucking fears. Tell me the name.”

Nemo looked away. It was, perhaps, the first time he was admitting it aloud, or even at all.

The Pure Bhaalspawn was not supposed to care for the others.

“I didn’t want to kill Enver Gortash,” he let out, small and pained and weak. “I do not want to kill Enver Gortash. He is the only one...” he trailed off.

“Anyway, this is my crime, the one my Father punished me for. I care for the banite. I care. I fucking care, and I’m not supposed to. And he,” a quick glance at the Moonrise Towers on the horizon. “Is somewhere in these fucking towers.”

***

He did not have to kill the man, and Karlach didn’t get to kill him, because in the feat of reckless abandonment Lord Enver Gortash did something no one expected him to be capable of.

He saved Nemo’s life.

He ruined his own plans.

And everything changed.

Everything changed, and now they sneak across the streets, the wraiths in the night, criminals in their own city.

There’s a curfew, Wyll finds out. There was never a curfew.

Also there’s a siege on the city, brought by the forces of the army Ketheric Thorm has build and Absolute now uses.

There are posters on the streets claiming they’re enemies of the state. Wyll, his father, Nemo and Gortash. Four of their faces, painted in the likeness, printed out and put around the city Wyll calls his own.

And Florrick did it.

No, he shakes his head, Not Florrick, the Elder Brain what controls her, the tadpole what’s buried deep into her brain. Florrick would never do that, but she is locked somewhere deep in her own mind, behind the intricate web of psionic power Absolute possesses.

The Steel Watch is at her heed, used against their own creator, used by the Brain the same way it uses Florrick, the same way it uses Orin, the same way it uses anyone who doesn’t have the luxury of the astral prism and an unlikely illithid ally protecting them from within.

A mindflayer named Emperor, the one who seems to have some kind of a bad history with Gortash. If this is not the cherry on top of the overall disaster of their lives.

The world Wyll has known is burning around him as he watches, and the only hope of even getting out of this mess is the help of the criminal underworld of the Gates; the Ninefingers’ guild, the assassins Nemo claims would stay loyal to him, and Enver Gortash’s questionable contacts.

Somewhere in the city there’s a diabolist who will help them break into Hell, and at that point Wyll doesn’t even ask. He doesn’t trust Emperor, and Lae’zel demands Prince Orpheus to be released, so what choice do they truly have?

Somewhere in the city there’s a vampire lord planning to sacrifice seven thousand souls for his own selfish gain.

Somewhere in the city there’s a cult of Shar, hidden in the plain view.

Somewhere underground there’s a Temple of Bhaal, its torches alight, the screams of victims echoing in the halls.

Somewhere in the city where are refugees who managed to flood into the streets at the moment of confusion; somewhere in the streets there are Mol and Umi and the others, there are those of tiefling refugees who managed to survive against all odds.

Somewhere in this city where’s hope, and Wyll will be damned if he does not find it.

***

“Home sweet home,” Nemo smirks as they approach the building on the poor side of town. It seems to be the shoemaker’s shop, a small and unassuming building with the words ‘Flymm's Cobblers’ scratched on the plate near the front. “Didn’t expect this would be first place you’d want to visit.”

“Be quiet,” Gortash snaps back, more tense than Wyll would expect him to be. They are indeed a strange and suspicious group of adventures, with three of their faces put on every wall of the city with the world “reward” underneath. “We’re coming in, I’m taking what’s mine and we leave.”

“So no family reunion then?”

Gortash does not answer, instead working on the lock. Shadowheart looks around just in case, but the streets are empty, quiet. Abandoned.

“This curfew works in our favor,” she comments.

“This curfew is wrong,” Wyll argues.

“Would you two be quiet for a mere fucking moment?” the former lord hisses. “I am trying to do something here.”

“He is breaking into his own home,” Nemo comments helpfully.

“This is not my home and you know it.”

“And yet you still keep things here.”

“No one would think of looking here. Look at this place,” the man manages gesture around without breaking the hold on the lock. “Look at this excuse of a shop. I’m surprised they’re not run down by the debt collectors at the rate they’re going.”

“Wait a moment,” Shadowheart speaks. "You know these people?”

“They’re his-“

“They’re no one.”

The two of the gods’ chosen stare each other down. Nemo is the first to look away.

“Be it your way,” he murmurs. “But I think it’s dumb.”

“You think table manners are dumb.”

“Because they are!”

“Quiet,” Gortash hisses and pushes on the lockpick with the force the poor thing does not deserve. Somehow it works and the lock opens with a soft click. “Inside.”

“Who made you the boss?”

“Nemo, for the fuck’s sake, just once in your goddamn life-“

Shadowheart pushes them all inside and closes the door behind.

“There,” she comments plainly. “That’s better.”

The inside of the store is...quite insignificant, in lack of other, kinder words. The room to the storefront is small, ill-kept and rather unwelcoming. There are pairs of cheap shoes on display behind the counter; not badly-made, but not masterfully either.

Just a little poorly-maintained store in the Lower City, one of the many.

What Enver Gortash is doing here is a question. Nemo called it Gortash's home, but Nemo talks people in circles. His words should be put under scrutiny more often than not.

"Keep watch," the lord barks a command, already climbing the steps, and some part of Wyll wishes to whip the arrogant order off his lips, to remind him he is a lord no more. His fingers tingle with magic, Mizora's gift always ready to draw first blood.

That makes him pause.

Wyll is not that kind of a man and Enver Gortash will not turn him into one.

He resolves to respond with silence, locking gazes with visibly annoyed Shadowheart.

"I fail to see how Nemo finds it charming," she comments, observing the room around them, poorly lit up with the waning moon. "But again, he was raised in a cult."

You were raised in a cult, Wyll almost says, but manages to bit his tongue just in time. This is a dangerous topic.

"And so was I, I suppose," she continues, oblivious to his inner turmoil. "It's funny, I'd never thought Bhaal and Shar would be so alike; in their methods, if nothing else."

"All things evil tend to walk the same path," he offers tentatively, listening closely to the surroundings. So far things seem to be going smoothly. There's not a sound around, not as much as a creak of the stairs. The rooms above are silent, obvious to the intruders no doubt ravaging through things.

An echo of steps appears in the distance, and they crouch by the windows, peeking outside. A single steel watcher walks by, its steps mechanical and devoid of any life. A monstrosity of infernal iron, connected to the tadpole somewhere deep in the Foundry. Gortash told them that much after it became clear the Watchers are no longer his to command.

How they're going to defeat the Elder Brain in possession of one of netherstones is a mystery clouded in a failure.

"Look," Shadowheart murmurs, touching his shoulder. "Near the counter. Isn't that Gortash?"

And indeed it is him, or rather a very well-made portrait of him. It looks expensive and entirely out of place in the poor cobbler's store.

"That's weird," Wyll comments. "Should we investigate this place while our companions are busy?"

Shadowheart makes a face.

"I don't want to think what is it exactly they're busy with," she wrinkles her pretty nose. "Everything concerning these two is bad news."

Wyll can't not agree with that.

They swiftly move to get closer to the portrait, but before they reach it, the small door behind the corner creaks open.

They freeze.

"Who is here?" A shrill voice of an older woman demands and then the woman herself appears, dressed in a cheap nightgown with a shawl draping over her shoulders. "Who is it who dares to break into my house?"

There's something familiar in the crook of her nose, in the shape of her eyes; but Wyll can't for the life of his figure out what.

"Wyll," Shadowheart whispers, suddenly tense. "Can you feel it? This woman, she is..."

Wyll closes his eyes and concentrates on his surroundings, and indeed he can. The pull, not unlike the ones he has felt before, in the presence of so called True Souls.

"She has a tadpole," he whispers back. They could just...navigate conversation though their unusual link granted by tadpoles in their heads, but neither Wyll not Shadowheart like doing that. They have been stripped of personal space for long enough, he thinks, no need to break that little what remains of the inner walls.

"She does," Shadowheart agrees. "And it almost like...Like something fights it, tries to push the worm away, but to no avail."

"Her real mind perhaps, part of it not controlled by the tadpole?"

"Perhaps," she agrees. "I will try to reach out to it."

And, before he manages to stop her, she does.

The revelation it brings them both is worse than they could have expected.

***

Wyll pulls back at the sound of the steps above, interrupting the woman's inner pleas.

His mother. This woman, Sally Flymm, is Enver Gortash’s mother.

Worse, she sold her son - the spiteful ungrateful brat as she called him - to a warlock.

Worst of all, the tadpole in her brain is her son's doing.

The loud voice of said son interrupts his line of thoughts.

"We need to go," Gortash tells someone, irritation clear in his voice. "Let go of my forearm, if you may."

"But my boy," a man's voice replies. "You only just returned home, surely you will stay-"

"This is not my home," the lord cuts off sharply. "And I'm not staying. Come on," he nods at Wyll. "I have all we need, there's no reason to stay in this wretched place any longer."

"Enver," Sally Flymm, or rather the tadpole operating her body, speaks. "You won't rob us of your presence so quickly, will you? Please, I beg of you, at least stay for a tea. I can make some sweet to go by. Not a feast worthy of archduke, but-"

"No," he cuts off. Wyll can't help but notice the tension in his shoulders, the sharp edge in his voice. Enver Gortash has orchestrated this concerto, yet hates to participate.

For the first time since ever Wyll can't fault him for that. His father has his flaws and he did banish Wyll from his home - for a good reason -, but Ulder Ravengard would never do something like the cruel deed of the Flymms.

Nemo trails behind his companion, quiet for a change, eyes shrewd and thoughtful. Wyll knows Nemo is a noisy person and he bets the bhaalspawn reached for the man's mind the same way Shadowheart reached for Sally's. He wonders what Nemo found there.

They leave as quickly as they came, and just as quietly. The portrait on the wall doesn't leave Wyll's mind. It's expensive and well-made presence clashes with the environment, making him suspect how the portrait appeared there in the first place.

They sold him into slavery, he thinks, and his heart aches for the little boy Enver Flymm used to be. And in return he locked them inside their minds and made repeat the words of admiration.

Somehow it rings even worse than if Gortash had simply killed them. Somehow it tells more of the deep unhealed wound on the tyrant's soul.

It sure as hell does not excuse a thing, but at least gives some explanations to why.

"So," Nemo starts as they almost reach their hideout. Renting rooms in Elfsong was out of question, that with sparse recourses they have and being haunted by the law. By Elder Brain using the law for a tool, Wyll mentally corrects himself. So abandoned house close to the docks was pretty much their only option. That or the sewers, and Wyll really didn't want to camp in there. "Nice place. I like what you did to it."

There's an undeniable undertone to his words Gortash catches on almost immediately. He whips his head to the spawn, staring him down. Nemo only smiles languidly, clearly pleased with- himself? Situation they found themselves in? What Enver Gortash did to his parents?

The last one, Wyll decides. It would be the kind of thing Nemo appreciates.

Nemo seems to have a personal vendetta against parents all around the world, an echo of his existence as a child of a cruel god.

After a moment of scrutinizing inspection in which Gortash stared into Nemo's face as if looking for a trick and Nemo stared right back, relaxed under such pressing attention, the lord's posture slightly eases.

"Thank you," he lets out, turning away. "I knew you would get it."

There's strange, ominous kind of silence that falls between them.

Wyll can feel Nemo's mind buzz with elation and dark satisfaction. Not only he approves of Gortash's treatment of his parents, but the mere fact of said treatment makes him...not exactly happy, but cheerful, like a child who got the candy.

Wyll once again grieves for a boy Nemo never was, for a life created for a single, awful purpose.

He swears to break the chains tying his friend to the god of Murder.

***

"You need to break out of Bhaal's hold," Shadowheart states as they close the door to their hideout, Gortash quick to leave them behind and stroll for the room he claimed as his. Nemo turns around, curious.

"I do not exactly disagree with that statement," he hums. "But why bring it now?"

The woman reaches out, raising her hand, then letting it drop before it touches the spawn.

"It's just a thought I had," she replies, visibly closing off. Wyll sighs and wraps his arms each around one of his companions, feeling them both tense.

Children of the cults, playthings of the evil gods.

He will not leave them to it.

"Because you owe nothing to the evil who claims to be your god," he replies instead.

Nemo snorts.

"I'm pretty sure I owe him my own existence. Made of the god's flesh, remember?"

"Did you ask to be made?" that shuts the half-elf down. "That's what I thought. No child should bear the weight of their parent's expectations the way you do, not even a child of a god."

"Especially not a child of a god," Shadowheart chimes in. "And...I just had a curious thought. Parents sure are the first gods we ever worship, aren't they?"

Wyll contemplates it for a moment, but has to agree. Once upon a time Ulder Ravengard was his everything: his father, his hero, the symbol of everything Wyll strived to be.

Now he is but a tired warrior in a fight bigger than his life. Now he looks mortal.

This, Wyll thinks, is what growing up feels like.

"Are we going to address what we saw in that shop?" He asks quietly and is sure his friends understand the meaning.

"Depends," Nemo hums. "Do you want to get a bolt in the lungs? Kidney if you're lucky."

Shadowheart laughs, quietly as if she isn't sure she is allowed to.

Wyll wonders how hard it is to kill a goddess;  Shar has it coming anyway, after the Shadow curse and all the grief it brought.

"I'll pass," he comments instead, hugging his friends closer.

"Oh, a group hug," Astarion's voice reaches them before the vampire does. "Why are you having a group hug without us?"

"Because they're evil," Karlach comments. "Very evil. No fun. No hugs for me either, it seems. Despite, you know, me being the best hugger in the world."

Shadowheart laughs again, brighter this time, her cheeks warm. Wyll doesn't miss the way cleric brightens up in the presence of their fiery friend.

"That's true," Nemo comments, snaking out of Wyll's embrace. "I indeed am the worst person you'll ever meet. Now, if you excuse me, my evil deeds await," and he goes for the stairs, slightly wary around Karlach as he passes her by.

Wyll hates it, he hates the tension what has grown out between them ever since Nemo's confession and even more - after Gortash unexpectedly joining in. It's like they're drawing lines in the sand, with Nemo being steadily on one side with Gortash, and them - on the other.

He had thought they have built alliances, what they've grown closer, became friends, but the blunt way Nemo keeps choosing tyrant over them puts it in question.

Astarion seems to gravitate to where Nemo is, almost subconsciously, Wyll isn't even sure the spawn knows he does it.

Gale is staying aside for now, not willing to pick a side and not ready to condemn anyone.

Jaheira, surprisingly, is much warmer to Nemo than anyone would expect her to be.

It has to be the way Nemo denies his father; the way the struggle is clear on his face as Lord Bhaal calls for his wayward son; the way half-elf demands answers for how to defeat him from the harper: "How did Abdel Adrian did it? How did he free himself from the Dread Lord's bloody hold? How, how, how? Help me defy him, help me deny him. He will not have me, I am his puppet no more."

Halsin stays on some distance from Nemo, taking a stance similar to Gale's. He doesn't exactly like Nemo, that much is clear, but he also cannot deny his part of breaking the Shadow curse. Why Nemo even helped with that is a question Wyll still battles with. He hopes it is because, despite everything, there is a part of his friend that seeks light, what wishes to do good. What it's not just the lack of former power what makes Nemo form alliances and rescue refugees. Wyll believes there's goodness in him.

He hopes he isn't wrong.

He also hopes he won't have to fight Nemo, what he will not cross the line, does not breach the point of no return.

There's an awful thought what the point of no return has been crossed long before that. Fifty years of servitude to Bhaal is a long time. A long reign of blood and terror.

"What deeds?" Karlach calls out, almost grasping Nemo by the wrist, the man dancing out of the touch at the last moment.

"I already said: evil."

"Nemo."

Nemo sighs.

"Fine, fine, I'll answer," he became less cooperative since Gortash. A lot of things changed for worse since that. "I want to try and track assassins operating through the city. Some of them should've kept their brains in their heads and know what's good for them."

"And what's good for them?" Wyll isn't sure he likes where it's going.

"Me, obviously. Not my dreadful father and definitely not Orin, tadpoled or not."

"We need to find Minsc before you decide to deal with your family business," Jaheira interferes, appearing as if out of the thin air.

"I know," half-elf nods. "I have already contacted some of Ninefingers' run-arounds. I believe we will be allowed to enter her little den, but can't promise she will cooperate."

Jaheira's eyebrows climb up.

"You two know each other?"

"We do," Nemo sighs. "We had a truce of sorts after our organizations clashed badly. Same sewers, you know. People would run into each other sooner or later."

"I find it hard to believe she would agree to a truce so easily."

"I didn't say it was easy. It was a pain in the ass, actually. And I'm pretty sure the truce doesn't stand anymore, Orin would ruin all my hard work the moment she had the chance."

"I can't believe you've been a cult leader for thirty years," Karlach comments. "What did you even do? No, don't say it, I know, e-"

"Evil things," Nemo replies, a shit-eating grin pulling the corners of his lips up.

Karlach sighs loudly and rather dramatically.

"There is more in the world than evil things, you know?"

"Hm," Nemo hums. "Let me think about it. I'm sure I've heard something about things other than evil, but can't exactly point out to where..."

"Alright, smartass, I give up."

"Already?" Another sharp smile. "That was-" words die on his lips out of sudden, along with the smile. It slides off as if poorly drawn picture being washed away. His muscles tense, a telltale of the pain to come.

Shit. Not again, not so soon.

"Nemo?" Karlach tries warily.

"Get the fucking chains," Nemo manages to croak. "I- his face contorts in a painful spasm. "-hate this par-" he chocks on his words, biting into his own tongue. A thin trail of blood appears on his chin.

"Hold on, darling," Astarion seems to be that particular kind of fool who does not fear Nemo even when he should be. Even then it's the sane thing to do. Instead he steps closer, hands reaching to Nemo's.

"No!" He bhaalspawn gasps. "Chains-"

Karlach rushes back into the room, and when did she leave? She drops a long chain over Nemo's shoulders and starts fixing the locks.

"I hate everything about it," Wyll comments as his hands already move to cast the spell. He does hate every part of it.

"Shh," Astarion, almost obvious to the ruckus around, cups Nemo's cheeks in his palms. "I got you."

"Get away from me," Nemo tries to order, his voice breaking into a roar at the end. "Astarion, please, just get away-" his body convulses as power beyond man's control takes a hold, breaking bones and tendrils alike. It never goes the full way, the transformation Bhaal inflicts on his son, but it's no less horrifying for that.

"What's up with you lot this time?" Gortash descends the steps in a hurried annoyance, brought back by the noise. He freezes midway at the sight. "Again? The last time was just-"

"Father doesn't exactly care for the timing," it has to be a sheer need to have the last word what pushes words through Nemo's lungs. He chocks on the air then, trashing in the chains holding him down. Shadowheart joins her spell to Wyll's, amplifying it, as Jaheira's vine creeps about the spawns body, locking it in it's hold.

There's not a shadow of a smug expression on Gortash's face. Instead there's a look of someone staring straight into the abyss and not being able to look away.

"Stop-" Nemo croaks. "Staring...Creep."

Astarion laughs, a shrill and pained sound it is.

"You have an awful taste in men," he comments, smoothing the creases on the bhaalspawn’s shirt.

"Astarion, get out of there," Jaheira commands. "He isn't safe to be around now."

"I know that," the spawn huffs in annoyance. And yet he moves nowhere, a hand circling in smooth motion over Nemo's heart now. Nemo tries to claw at him, but the vines and the chains hold him down. Then he snaps his teeth dangerously close to Astarion's face.

"Well, now," the elf comments, entirely unbothered. "We ask before we bite."

"Since...then?"

"Since we learned we're more than just rabid beasts driven by hunger. Now," Astarion glances back at Shadowheart already casting the spell. "Rest, darling."

The sleeping spell hits Nemo in the head and gets to work immediately. The bhaalspawn struggles, before succumbing to it and sliding to the floor in a heap of limbs.

Everyone breathes out.

"Well, then," Wyll concludes. "It's another night of watching over our friend. Who takes the first shift?"

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Imagine a world where reader is a designated observer of the Universe or in this case Tevyat. The reader was left behind by the order before Celestia. The reader has spent years watching over Tevyat and silently recording the events, all until the time of judgment. The time that Childe fell into the Abyss, was the first time that the reader intervened - speaking to Skirk to ensure the survival of this blue eyed boy.

After a few years, the reader has settled in Liyue, curious about the designs of the Geo and Cryo archons. Blending in easily with humanity as a historian that's constantly traveling, which would explain when they would disappear from the city for days. People just assumed that it's for 'research.' The reader didn't expect Childe to recognize them. One day, the Harbinger was on his way to Xinyue Kiosk, when he saw them. He could never forget their kind eyes. The gaze of knowing all too much was directed on his own dull blue eyes, recognition on them, before flitting away. The reader retreated to their rented home and stayed indoors in the hopes of avoiding Childe. A week had passed and Childe was getting a bit worried since you were still inside your home. Well, you might have a well-stocked kitchen, he thought. But surely, you would have ventured outside to get more food and other necessities? His underlings had handed him a detailed report of who you were, having seen his interest in you. However, he refused to read it. He wanted to know everything firsthand. All he knew was that the place where you were staying was a bit above the paygrade of a historian.

From within the confines of your abode, you peeked at the outside world through the window, as subtly as you can. You knew and felt you were being watched. The humans were smart but not many cared to look twice. You have avoided the Adepti Secretary of the Qixing and the gallant gentleman from the Funeral Parlor for months. And yet it only took one glance at the 11th Harbinger to crack your facade. Internally, you berated yourself but was secretly pleased to learn that he had survived and he had progressed in life to land such an important role. You knew of course. Nobody else had eyes like his - the depths of the ocean, with its twinkle stolen. You knew he had inherited the Foul Legacy. And in the Abyss, you knew he had to have that in order to fight his way out. What you didn't know was why such a high ranking Harbinger was still sitting in the restaurant across your home every morning, ordering tea and staring right at your window, as if just waiting for you to come out.

On the 9th day, the knock came on your door. It would be suspicious not to answer, so you did. As expected, the blue eyed young man beamed at you.

"Hello," he said, voice deep and velvety, so unlike the innocent small voice he once had.

He introduced himself with a flourish, red scarf flapping in a sudden Liyue breeze. Under the guise of asking for your expertise on history, he requested a meeting with you. And even promised that the pay would be up to your standards. Your lips found themselves curling up at the impromptu request. Oh, yes. You could answer everything from recent history to pre-celestia era. A date and time was agreed upon and you were to meet in a peculiar spot up in the mountains.

However, on the agreed upon date and time, instead of the ocean blue eyed ginger, Foul Legacy appeared. His armor seeping purple and cracked in places. A deep voice as if from the depths of the earth, saying your name. Soon the speech became muddled with chirps and a pleased trill. Because in his mind, he knew that Skirk didn't want to train him. He remembered the conversation you had with Skirk. You appeared with a sudden burst of light, illuminating the Abyss for a brief moment. You wore a gleaming white dress, speckled with stars. Most of all, he remembered how you kneeled in the dirt and wiped away his tears, promising him that he would get the training he needed to survive.

He does not fight just for the Tsaritsa. He fights for you, too. You once said, "Be strong, Ajax. Be the strongest version of yourself and live." Your eyes never left his as you stroked his hand.

"Found you, y/n."

His claws held your hands delicately. His galaxy wings unfurling and shielding your head from the rain.

You were not supposed to feel anything, not supposed to intervene at all. However, in that moment, your heart started beating fast. You have been alone for eons. So terribly isolated. He was the first human to recognize you and identify you as yourself. He had been looking for you all these years. It filled you with a sense of warmth that you didn't know you wanted. Your hands reached out to touch his cheek, thumbs smoothing over the surface. The purple ooze covering him was his blood. Heavens, he was injured. A sense of unparalleled anger surged in your veins. You were the keeper of secrets - you could easily unleash chaos on the ones who hurt him. But you were also the keeper of knowledge and so you decided to bring him home and heal him with the most effective methods you knew. Under your watchful gaze and care, he fell asleep in a nest of blankets. His head on your lap and your hands threading through his hair.

You have kept yourself safe and undetected for so long. He was the only exception for your boundaries and the only one you would break every rule for.

i’ve been rereading this again and again because it is so TASTEY thank you for this meal <333

it takes so long for Childe- Ajax- to wake up, curled underneath piles of blankets in his Foul Legacy form, and when he does finally open his eye and yawn you let out a relieved sigh. you slide a pillow under his head, to replace your lap as you rise from the couch, but the moment you turn to walk away there’s a soft whine. when you look back, Childe is pushing himself off the couch, attempting to follow you only to collapse back onto the covers with a whimper. you motion for him to stay put, smiling despite your worry and watching him reluctantly bury himself under the blankets again while you go to fetch more supplies.

he’s looking at you with such adoration when you return, immediately moving his head back onto your lap as you clean his injuries. Childe hums along with you as you mumble to yourself, dabbing medicine on the wounds and wrapping them in bandages. when you’re finished he leans in and nudges his face against your cheek, before sneakily giving you a quick lick- it makes you jump slightly in surprise, and Childe lets out a growling laugh. a smile overtakes your surprise and you laugh with him, a softness in your eyes that Childe takes a moment to admire. but behind that softness is years and years of loneliness, and his heart aches suddenly. Childe leans closer still and pulls you into a hug, a firm, gentle one that makes you melt in his arms.

you’ve never felt a hug like this before. history doesn’t have many places for a hug, and your eyes fill with tears made of starlight. in a soft, cooing voice, Childe says your name again, seeing you for you and not just another silent observer in the crowd- that’s all you’ve been for so long, observing everything and everyone, until you reached out and saved a boy with blue eyes.

and maybe Childe doesn’t completely know that, but Foul Legacy does, and Foul Legacy remembers you, the spark of light and hope in the darkness of the Abyss. perhaps you will continue to hide, remaining under the radar from Archons and Adepti alike, but maybe, just maybe, you can hide with Childe at your side.

[saccharinerose]

Been stewing over the 4.2 trailer a bit so I'm compiling my thots here

Looking at the background of the big sword guillotine-looking thingie, it appears to not be in the Opera Epiclese (It could be in the big tower in the new 4.2 region maybe?). Since Focalor's trial is held in the Opera (given that we get a judgement from the Oratrice), it seems unlikely this has anything to do with it. I wouldn't be surprised if this is a cutscene from a wholly unrelated world quest (Hoyoverse did sth like that in the 4.1 trailer too lol)

These shots of Neuvillette are probably part of the same sequence, though cut-up in the trailer. Fontaine is not flooded in these shots (we can see the waterfalls into the pool behind the Opera and the mountain in the third image is as it appears right now, just with more detail) so this is not full-power Hydro Sovereign Neuvillette reversing the flooding like I initially assumed. I'm curious what he's doing here then.

Childe came back from being pickled in the Primordial Sea and he's fighting the whale. From his appearance, he also appears to have been fighting it a while. He's got cracks in his armor and stains on his scarf (and this one 100% Childe and not Skirk in a Foul Legacy transformation, we can see his Electro Delusion). If he's been using Foul Legacy to fight the whale ever since the end of the 4.1 AQ then it's no wonder he has no lines in 4.2, the second he de-transforms bro is gonna fall into a months-long coma from the strain.

The whale is going to emerge inside the Opera house, probably either during or after Focalor's trial and Foul Legacy!Childe will pursue it from the crack it ripped open.

The scene where it looks like Navia falls into the Primordial Sea does not seem to take place in Poisson (where we know something will happen and Arlecchino will help) or the Court of Fontaine, so I assume it's in the new area? Idk man

[fictionkinfessions]

For post canons I suppose I can share one of my favorite post-fontaine story mems.

My assesment for becoming a Harbinger. It was a few years after fontaines canon. I think Traveler was in snezhnaya at the time, though I can't say if it was during its arc or after.

Harbinger assesments were part of the Fatuis annual gathering to test the harbingers, adjust rankings within, ect. Which meant Lynette and I got to fight as many Harbingers as we could get through. I remember details about each fight we faced, but One of them was my favorite.

My fight with Tartaglia. Now my Fontaine Arc was rather divergent, Tartaglia was handled differently, and we had gotten into a rather abusive relationship during his months there. Tartaglia of course denied it for years, and I have no memory of him ever coming to his senses about it, even after Aether stopped speaking with him.

Needless to say I used our required fight to get some much craved revenge. While even years later of no contact, he was still so angry, and thought he could finally "shut me up". Though I suppose I did decimate his reputation by being open about it ;p Even got him banned from returning to Fontaine by the Fatui. (the Fatui informed the court that should Tartaglia be seen he is to be sent back to Snezhnaya immediately, your boyfriend being the head of meropide certainly helped in ensuring fontaine complied with the request.)

Tartaglia was so blinded with rage during our battle that he gave up all his advantages inorder to go straight to his strongest form, foul legacy. And doing so was his downfall, as he lost all his movement and speed advantage over me, allowing me to get good range and just absolutely decimate him. It's surprisingly easy to overwhelm foul legacy with attacks too fast for the heavy form to retaliate against.

I did the other Harbingers a favor by putting him out of commision for a few days according to Father. He would apparently beg every other harbinger to fight until they taped his mouth shut every year.

I still think its funny that I was so ready to finally give him a taste of his own medicine that I completely forgot that Lynette was supposed to be fighting with me (as she counted as part of my ability, like dottores clones, or sandrones primary puppet).

Though Pierro should be grateful I forgot about that, or else he'd have more harbingers to replace. I could keep myself from killing him, but nobody stops Lynette when she wants to kill. Pierro just seemed very confused when Father and I mentioned that to him.

The other fights were all realy fun- Lynette being allowed to go all out is truly a terrifying sight. With the speed she has you'd think her vision were electro. Ever seen a woman of her stature cut through over a foot of solid metal before you could blink? She nearly distracted me in that fight when she did that- I know I was technically stronger than her, but I didnt take "you're allowed to kill eachother" as an invitation. (Sorry that she almost killed you btw Sandrone.)

And yet despite Lynettes terrifying speed- You would never think it. But Pulcinella? Even faster. That fight was over before we could really even get started. No Old Man should be allowed to be That Fast I swear. So of course, being defeated by Harbinger no.5, We were placed in seat 6. Ofc I held the title officially, and Lynette was just my primary assistant, but we were treated as a duo of harbingers by everyone anyway, even though I was the only one who got the big Harbinger jacket >:)

I don't think I'll ever remember future assesments, as my initiation is obviously the most important one. But I wouldn't mind getting more memories of fighting Tartaglia during them. Because the one in this timeline certainly deserved it.

While I'm here of course. Thank You, Pierro. For making sure I was comfortable. I get the feeling the other harbingers hated Tartaglia enough they wanted an excuse to remove him, and just didnt want to deal with the headache of removing him themselves- He was more trouble than he was worth after Fontaine if my hunch is right (truly a downside of delusions, hm?) And even if your kindness was only because of that, it is still very much appreciated.

~Lyney 🕯♟

s

[zhongyeet-me-to-the-moon]

Till we meet again part 1

Foul legacy x gn!reader

Type:story

Warnings: break ups, mostly angst, kinda short.

It was a clear cut break up. You heard childe talk on about a future with you, a kid, maybe 2, a nice house in sneznhneya. And you wanted that to, you did less and less commission and saved up enough money for hopefully the beginning of that dream to happen, but when you finally voiced the idea becoming reality, he laughed.

He fucking laughed in your face.

It was small, more of a chuckle, but it was enough for you to know where the conversation would end up.

"Right now, seriously?" He said, it was the peak of the fatui beginning their negations with Liyue, and he would leave there soon to talk with the banks over there. It seemed like a perfect moment to you, leave while the irons hot, before childe had to leave the country. His eyes were always void, you assumed it had been that way since he crawled out of the abyss, but they never bothered you like they did in that moment.

"I can't leave now, I've got important business I have to do for the Tsaritsa, she needs me."

"I need you."

You were done. You weren't getting any younger, you should be spending your young days together enjoying life, but he had his work first apparently.

You left the night before he was to board the ship to Liyue, and that was it.

Many months passed, eventually word got around about the osial event, the harbor of Liyue being destroyed in the midst and the Jade Chamber falling Into the ocean. You didn't pay it any mind, not your business.

A large commission brought you to Mondstatd, only a few weeks trip to Liyue, you tried not thinking about it. The knights of Favonious were more than gracious to offer you lodging while helping out, and flirty banter between Kaeya was not unenjoyable. You weren't looking to date at this point, especially someone of such important business for the city.

Not again. You think.

But enjoying the company of others in the night was not smth you turned down either, you set your bearings straight from the start.

It was one night enjoyed at Dawn Winery, talking to kaeya, flirting with Diluc who never gave you the time of day but still blushed at your comments, that you noticed a man sitting in the corner of the bar alone, tall, dark hair, piercing gold eyes and clothes uncommon to the city, Liyue to be specific. A foreigner, just like you.

"Seems like you need some company." You greeted, coming up with 2 glasses of wine.

"That would be lovely actually, thank you." Ge nods his head over to the seat in front of him and you gladly sat down.

"What brings you to Mondstatd then-" you trailed off a bit.

"Zhongli, and I cam from Liyue here to look for someone to do a commission for me ms/mr--"

"Y/n, and, doesn't Liyue have its own adventurers guild for that?"

He sipped his wine, pausing for a bit, seemingly inspecting the flavor, before continuing "It is true we do, but since the events with the Jade Chamber most have been occupied with picking up the pieces and gathering materials to rebuild. I thought coming here I would be able to find someone with more free time on their hand, as the matter is quite...time consuming."

"Oh? Suppose I take the deal? What would this 'time consuming' job entail?"

"Babysitting of sorts."

"You need the adventurers guild to babysit a kid?"

"Not a kid." He corrected, but feigned saying more for a second, thinking about how he should word the next sentence. "I would pay well, I work for the funeral Parlur in Liyue. But I'm afraid unless you agree I can't go into further details, i will say though that i will require you to keep an open mind, and until i can find a way to fix the problem myself it will be a 24/7 job." To prove his point he placed a large bag, the size of both your fists, onto the table, opening the bag it was full of mora. "This would be half of what I would give now, the other half once the job is complete."

You thought for a bit on what he could mean, an animal maybe? Maybe something macabre like guarding a corpse of an important person? He does work for a funeral parlor apparently. You sipped the last of your wine, you really shouldn't be making decisions tipsy. "Fuck it, why not. I was planning on leaving town anyways, the commission I had here finished a couple days ago anyways."

"Perfect. I will be leaving tomorrow morning. I will await for your arrival ar the Wan Shu funeral parlor at the soonest notice, if I'm not there Hu Tao will be more than accommodating to let you in." He stood up, lightly pushing the bag closer to you, and he lightly bowed a goodbye.

It wasn't until you went to bed you were second guessing. It brought up old thoughts, the rumors of the fatui being apart of the Osail incident coming up specifically. They're still reported to be in Liyue, would it be smart to go? What if you saw Childe there? What if he wants to talk to you? Work things out?

You shook those thoughts from your head. Ridiculous.

[teaandsconeswrites]

The Monster Maketh the Man

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43542124/chapters/112227922

I’ve been pretty lax about posting my fics here, so I’m going to try to remember to post my updates on Tumblr too from now on.

Alt Text & Chapter Preview Below:

Rating: M (Optional E side chapter later on, with both a ZC and TTL version)

Universe: SCP Foundation AU

Estimated Final Wordcount: >100k

Summary: Secure. Contain. Protect.

These are the words Zhongli lives by, working his way up the ranks of the SCP Foundation—an organisation dedicated to protecting humanity against anomalous threats. Now a respected researcher, he has spent the past two months as a consultant in Sumeru. His time on his current case at its end, the details of his next assignment arrive: he will relocate to Snezhnaya to assist with the initial analysis of a freshly contained SCP—a creature infused with forbidden energy and an insatiable drive to fight any who dare enter its containment cell.

For a man who has built his career on the principle of protecting humanity, his new assignment will test his resolve as he discovers that there is humanity even in the most monstrous of appearances, and a little monster hidden in the places least expected.

Tags: Alternate Universe - SCP Foundation / Modern Setting / No Visions, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Plot Twists, Unethical Experimentation, Ethical Dilemmas, Worldbuilding, Built on lore up to and including Version 3.2, Childe's Foul Legacy Transformation, Captivity, SCP Foul Legacy, SCP Researcher Zhongli, Power Imbalance, Although they don't get together until that's resolved, Age Difference, Ajax is 22 Zhongli is 31, widower Zhongli, Past GuiLi, Guilt, Angst, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Torture (Of SCP-231), Minor mentions of loss / grief / moving on in relation to Guizhong, Blood and Violence

Chapter Preview: It takes three days for the maintenance team to repair SCP-72030’s containment cell, and a further day for the observation window to receive additional reinforcements. Although the testing of SCP-72030 has been placed on temporary hiatus, the less experienced staff working on the ground floor of Site-300-14 have kept Zhongli busy, eager to absorb any expertise he has to share.

It’s quite flattering to have his reputation considered so highly even this far from home.

Or perhaps they simply prefer to ask Zhongli over their less than savoury Site Director.

Following the initial experiment, which Simran declared a roaring success, he has taken to strutting about the office, bragging of his success in determining the exact containment parameters to optimise both security and cost efficiency.

Zhongli struggles to understand what he should make of the situation. On the one hand, Simran is correct, it is vital that the containment cell is reinforced to a degree that SCP-72030 cannot escape and harm neither the site staff, nor the world at large, but on the other, the data from the previous session haunts Zhongli's nights, hanging over his shoulder like a malicious spirit.

It might be a fluke. Due to many of the subjects in SCP Foundation existing in a state where they cannot be directly studied, the machine is not directly hooked into Foul Legacy itself. Instead, readings are taken from the external surroundings to deduce the anomaly’s internal conditions. Occasionally, this can result in erroneous conclusions. For example, indicating a human pain response in what is clearly an inhuman, elemental being.

Zhongli prefers not to think upon the implications otherwise.

On the fifth day the maintenance staff give the all clear to resume work on SCP-72030, and Zhongli arrives an hour earlier than required. The task Simran planned for today is simple—establish a greater array of base readings before analysing the direction of their research should head, or if they should continue at all.

However, Zhongli has observations of his own to make.

He steps into the observation room, the scent of bleach and disinfectant hitting him head on. The whole place has been cleaned immaculately, not the slightest sign of a footprint on the sleek vinyl flooring. Of course it wouldn’t do for any evidence of their sins to remain unscrubbed from the place; Simran would never allow his staff to linger too long on the implications of their actions, lest they develop some semblance of conscience.

His workstation is as he left it, although a cleaner has bundled the network cables neatly in the back corner. Zhongli sets the observation blind to open as he boots his machine.

This morning is time for himself and SCP-72030, alone.

[bokatan]

botanical headcanons: aloe, bay tree, carnation, and peony

[ botanical headcanons ]

aloe: how does your muse handle grief?

Reed just ...doesn't. He typically distances himself from it as much as possible and he shoves it down to deal with later. He rarely actually deals with it though. Typically what happens is everything just builds up on top of the grief he's been hanging onto and he ends up having a nice breakdown over something unrelated and works through it that way.

Mercy also tends to bottle it up and she has a habit of throwing herself into her work as a distraction. She does, however, actually let herself grieve and process things later on when she's actually ready to deal with it. If it's a very personal loss or involves something very close to her, she may opt to take it out on something else in some manner- revenge if there was foul play involved, burning things, instigating fights, etc etc.

bay tree: does your muse seek glory & accolades, or do they simply favor a simpler, more personal life?

Reed really just wants to be able to do his own thing with his dog(s) and be left alone, but he doesn't really give himself any opportunities to have that. He doesn't have any interest in leaving any sort of legacy or getting any recognition for the things he's done.

Mercy has a lot of goals and she 100% expects full credit for the work she's done. I don't think she's going for actual fame or anything along those lines, but her work's intended to help others so she expects to get some credentials for it.

carnation: what is your muse's relationship with their gender? how do they express or not express this relationship?

Reed's very comfortable and secure with his gender identity at the point where I'm using him as a character. I do have it established that he used to be more insecure about it and acted like he had something to prove in his younger years, but at the point that I'm doing anything with him- he's been openly presenting himself as a man for at least a decade, he’s comfortable with himself and how he’s perceived by others, & overall he's just in a really good place with it.

Mercy's overall gender identity is pretty much just: too old to give a fuck. I’d say she probably would’ve identified more as a woman prewar, but by the time she left the Enclave she just couldn’t be bothered now that there aren’t the same societal expectations in place. She enjoys presenting herself with both feminine & masculine features and she likes to play around with it some.

peony: what would a "happy life" look like in your muse's eyes?

Like mentioned above- Reed just wants to do his own thing with his dog(s) and be left alone. After the whole faction war mess is dealt with, I think he'd do one of the following: cut ties with the Railroad and leave the Commonwealth with Mercy, or he'd end up working with the Minutemen in some manner - I think he'd likely end up as something along the lines of a dog trainer and would be helping out in that manner. He's very supportive of them during his storyline but wanted nothing to do with leading them, which is why he doesn't have an official affiliation with them.

Mercy has two options as well- she'd either move on after a few months and leave the Commonwealth with Reed after getting everything she went there for, or she'd settle down in a more permanent home and work as a doctor + continue her research. I actually have another post over here detailing this idea out more - this is the one that I'd consider canon for her, but I like to have options. She'd have Reed with her in the second option as well - I still haven't worked out exactly where they are with each other at that point, but with the history they have together I can't really see either of them just being like "okay cool, bye" after the Institute & BOS are dealt with.

[torrentide-a]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. ( REPOST DO NOT REBLOG ! )

✿ NAME       gaige! ✿ PRONOUNS       they/them ✿ PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION       discord! mostly because tumblr doesn’t,,,like to give me new IM notifs / I have to refresh my whole page to see new IMs, and 90% of the time I forget to respond dfsdkfjp plus I don’t??? even get IM notifications on my phone when I’m in class because of battery saver, so o(-( discord is a big pref for me. ✿ NAME OF MUSE(S)       ajax childe foul legacy tartaglia pick one lmAO

✿ EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?)       ohhh god I wish I knew. since the early 2000s? my best guess is 15-ish years, give or take.

✿ PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED       tumblr, discord, old school fandom chatrooms, forums, dreamwidth, gaia online, myspace (don’t look at me dsfhsdf), msn and skype back in ye olden days,,,,runescape--

✿ BEST EXPERIENCE       I think my best experience was in a multifandom chatroom I frequented with my friends in high school. it was just! crossovers galore, and it somehow just made sense. it was so wild and fun! ah I miss the simplicity of it. there was just. not a care in the world about all the little details back then.

✿ RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS       posts that go untrimmed kind of annoy me, but I wouldn’t call it a dealbreaker. promoting drama and / or posting a lot of negativity and shitpost-y content to the point where it’s the only thing on my dashboard kind of is, though. o(-( I don’t mind it once in a while, but when it’s the only thing? dsfkhdf none for me, thanks. I also??? hate when people,,,act above other writers,,,,who are only here to ship, like??? man. they’re not hurting you let them (me) write their funny little ships/romance/smut goddamn. why can’t they write things that they like. why do you gotta get so high and mighty about it. I don’t get it. we’re all just here to have a good time and indulge in this dumb little hobby hrhghrhgh

✿ FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT       I enjoy all three in no particular order! it really depends on what I’m in the mood for at any given time. I’m always So Soft for fluff; it’s easily my favorite thing to write. but I’ve been kind of on an angst kick lately, and I won’t lie, I’m always down and in the mood for spice LMAO.

✿ PLOTS OR MEMES       I like a mixture of the two, tbh. memes are such a nice way to break the ice and explore new scenarios and concepts, but when I don’t have a direction or goal for a thread or a dynamic between two characters, I,,,tend to lose inspo Very Fast aaaa;;; 

✿ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES       I much prefer to start short and transition to longer replies if / when the inspiration strikes dkfjhsd a lot of people can set up a scene right out the gate, but I’m the opposite where I gotta start with a vague idea and feel it out / build it as I go DSFHSD IT’S WEIRD I KNOW I’M SORRY.

✿ BEST TIME TO WRITE       late night / early morning when everyone’s asleep and I have no distractions (I am so easily distracted dsfhdf)

✿ ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)       I think there are some similarities :thinking: like,,,I enjoy a good challenge (see: if I’m not suffering in a game, then I’m not having fun JKSDFNHD) and my family means the world to me, even if sometimes they’re not all that great, but,,,other than that, I don’t really think so. childe is an outgoing and charismatic go-getter, and I’m,,not LMAO. if there’s any character in genpact that I’m like personality-wise, it’s def tighnari.

tagged by @rosemourne ♥!! tagging nobody; please steal it I’m shy dsfhnsdkfj

[gnosticreign-a]

a young man who had fallen into the abyss as a child, he had eventually become a thief on the streets, forced into rehabilitation through training with the millileth, and then finding his place in the world as a bodyguard and bouncer in the yansheng teahouse. quickly giving his loyalty to yelan, those who have a problem with her have to go through him first.

PRIORITY: testing

IMPORTANT INFORMATION

"ri’ah, did you convert one of your batim muses to genshin?” it works out. it works out! anyway, uh, while his given name is “min”, the narration will actually default to “blight”.

anyway, blight here had also fallen into the abyss, spent several months there, and would eventually end up working for yelan.

profile information under the cut.

THE BASICS

full name: zhao min aka: blight age: 28 gender & pronouns: male & he/him orientation: bisexual, preferring men species: human ethnicity: liyuen occupation: bodyguard and bouncer residence: liyue harbor

PHYSICAL

height: 6′8″ hair: black eyes: black scars: several across his body tattoos: what appears to be all sorts of eyes all in a bundle on his left shoulder; these appear to be staring at nothing when his vision isn’t in use, but will glow with electro when his vision is used. piercings: n/a notable traits: skinny, lithe, wears dark clothing constantly face claim(s): mard geer ( fairy tail )

PERSONALITY

birthdate: october 12th zodiac: libra positive traits: clever, loyal, helpful to those he trusts, resourceful negative traits: moody, violent, distrustful, vengeful, snide

PHYSICAL

physical: poor eye phobias: name eyesight: terrible eyesight, often having to rely on his vision for finer details drug use: n/a alcohol use: pretty often

PERSONAL LIFE

parents: unknown; orphaned siblings: n/a pets: n/a

SKILLS AND ABILITIES

bartending proficiency. despite his poor eyesight, he knows how to tend a bar. in a teahouse, he does have this proficiency limited, but he’s been learning how to make teas with these techniques.

general “rogue” proficiencies. due to his childhood of being a juvenile delinquent, he has taught himself how to pick locks, pick pockets, and navigate various environments the quickest and quietest.

above-average strength. don’t be fooled by his light frame. he can and will take down men beefier than he is.

sword proficiency. elegant in some movements, brutal in others, he aims only to strike where his opponent is weakest.

electro vision. gained while he was in the abyss, fueled by his desire to escape, he was soon given a vision shortly before he was locked into a foul legacy. this vision helped him with the issues with his eyes, although he learned to work with the weakness his eyes held as well.

foul legacy. having fallen into the abyss at a young age, he had spent several months lost and trapped within the form of a foul legacy. it was during this time that he learned how to be proficient with it, and eventually figure out how to leave it. after he returned to the surface, he retained these abilities.

[opalesense]

Dick headcanons for Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, and Zhongli? 👀

dick headcanons

kaeya, diluc, childe, zhongli & gn!reader (NSFW)

1.1k words • ~9 min. read

warnings: cockwarming, blood mention, size difference, liyue arc spoilers

notes: SUPER delayed response (i’m so sorry) because i genuinely took a couple days to think about some fictional characters’ dicks??? i think it’s time to touch some grass?? ANYWAY i hope i did this request justice, i’ve never thought about this stuff in detail before :0

kaeya

i’ve always imagined that kaeya really has some LENGTH. he’s slightly above average so it’s not monstrously large, but he can definitely hit your sweet spots with ease or no effort at all.

it’s to the point where he can easily make bulges in your throat or your stomach. he absolutely loves watching his entire length disappear inside you and will either tease you about how he fits inside so well or how he’s so big that he can’t fit in you. just depends, of course.

cockwarming!!!! especially if you take his entire length in so well, expect him to ask if he can bury himself in you when the opportunity presents itself.

not super related to the topic but he’s the type to “fake bang” you if you’re bent over just to tease you. also the type to discretely grind his bulge against you when he’s in the mood, whether you’re hugging, cooking a meal, or even in the middle of a conversation with someone. he will not hesitate to let you know he wants you by letting you feel how hard you make him.

i don’t think many people talk about this but i imagine he’s uncircumcised... it’s going to sound so stupid but the “always hiding something” characterization... i’ll stop talking, you probably get it now HAHA

very well groomed down there! he truly does care about appearances and cleanliness after all. you never have to worry about poor hygiene with him in general. even though he loves doing dirty things with you there’s no doubt that he will always keep his dick as clean as possible. (shouldn’t everyone, though?)

he loves feeling tightness around his cock. whether it’s your hand pumping him or his form fitting pants restricting his bulge, firm pressure against that area can make his heart race. sometimes he can just be so needy for his cock to get attention.

diluc

despite being around average size he really has some girth on him! his cock is deliciously thick, that’s for sure.

twitchy! you can learn what he loves by the way his cock or his hips will twitch in excitement, almost as if it has a mind of its own. sometimes he can get so lost in the feeling and become speechless that those twitches would be your only indicator to keep doing what you’re doing.

his tip is so sensitive... if you lick that specific spot underneath his head or use your fingers to squeeze his tip, he will absolutely lose his mind. he also likes to shallow fuck you sometimes, loving the feeling of penetrating you over and over again.

that being said, expect him to usually take things slow and steady at first. he loves seeing the way his cock stretches you out, and especially loves seeing your hole gaping open to match his thickness. the feeling of pushing your walls apart because of how thick he is is always enough to make him weak at the knees.

he loves when you inflate his ego a little by using two hands to jerk him off rather than one. he especially loves when you use one hand to massage his balls, another sensitive spot of his. seeing you so eager and dedicated to please him will always send his heart pounding.

i like to imagine he has big, thick loads too to match his fat cock... he would definitely love dumping his cum inside you then letting it spill out so he can fuck it back inside again, penetrating you until your entrance is sore and covered in his load.

childe

this man is packing. he’s huge. nothing anyone can say will change my mind. out of this entire boy band group, this man packs the most. even his in game model has been proven to have such a fat cock that his bulge can literally be seen from behind???

it can tear you apart! hell, maybe it could make you bleed if he’s a touch too rough with you. but we all know that’s secretly what he would love to see... his bloodthirst might extend to intercourse too.

despite this, of course he would make sure your comfortable with his size first and would adjust accordingly in normal circumstances. he’s aware of how big he is and doesn’t want to make you feel genuine pain. maybe in other circumstances where he needs to take out his frustrations, he might not be so considerate...

if you gently touch or lick the veins that travel on the underside of his cock he goes a little feral! his veins are his weakness, just imagine the shaky moans he lets out as you tease him by tracing your finger along those veins... god help me

i believe in size kink foul legacy childe supremacy... his cock is already above average in size when he’s his normal self, but when he transforms you often tremble in borderline fear wondering how he could fit inside you. it’s mind boggling how the size difference is humanly possible.

(un?)fortunately, he can’t keep this form up for very long but rest assured he loves seeing the look on your face when he fucks you silly on such a fat cock, even if it’s just for mere moments.

that being said, expect childe to be super cocky about his size. his ego swells whenever you swoon over how big he is and he’s definitely the type of person to use this to his advantage by teasing and pushing your buttons.

zhongli

several sources have stated that rex lapis was able to change and alter his form freely... surely if zhongli could still do this even with his gnosis taken away, he would change his size to your preference if needed.

if you wanted his cock to rip you open, just say the word and he will do so accordingly. but if you’re feeling a little more mellow and wanted things to be gentle, he would gladly alter himself to be average size, or even smaller if you wanted.

but when i say he can alter his form, you best be sure that he can make it so he has two cocks at once. yes i believe in double cock zhongli supremacy... do with that information what you will.

since zhongli isn’t exactly human, his cock doesn’t exactly match that of a human’s either. in his most natural form without any changes being made, his cock is tougher and firmer than a normal human’s muscle. it doesn’t squish easy to the touch, but it’s not completely rock solid as you’d expect, which is quite ironic coming from a geo god.

you notice his veins on his cock, just like the rest of his body, are golden. they only actually show up when he’s reaching his climax where they’ll glow brighter if he’s getting closer to his orgasm. finally, with each pump of cum he lets out, these veins start pulsing with light until they eventually dim when he’s calming down from his high.

weird, huh?

[starglitterz]

cw ; word spam, angst, major character death

can this feeling be called love? the strange warmth blossoming in your chest when CHILDE kisses the back of your hand, the longing you feel when he disappears for a week, only to return bearing new scars while claiming recklessly with a gleam of pride in his oceanic eyes, "you should see the other guy." perhaps it's how the little details about him suddenly seem so obvious in the most adorable way, like how he stretches in the morning and offers you a smile while teasing you about the red nail marks scratched down his back, or how he worries his bottom lip with his teeth when he's frustrated but smiles up at you like everything's right in the world, or even his fierce devotion to his nation, his archon, his family, and you.

is it really love? or is it just forced passion born from the terror and fear of knowing how your life is constantly at risk when you're working for the fatui? in the claustrophobic meeting rooms filled with thick tension where nothing more than harsh insults are exchanged, falling silent when the tsaritsa herself steps in, the epitome of elegance as she delegates your tasks, was it amongst those where you began to adore him? when your fingertips danced with each other in a peculiar hesitance to actually touch, for that would mean accepting that you're both scared to lose one another, an intolerable fact in your line of work.

CHILDE, TARTAGLIA, AJAX; he wields so many names, and yet each one is a facade, a fake mask erected to preserve the truth; the eleventh fatui harbinger is merely a boy forced into the shoes of adulthood and under the weights of responsibility far too quickly. CHILDE has witnessed things worse than the most awful nightmares, but still all he gives you are dreams, handed to you delicately on a silver platter. "you trust me, don't you?" your lover colleague whispers to you one inazuman twilight when all the stars in the sky seem to have been swallowed up by the endless darkness of the galaxy. pink petals surround the two of you, his hands cupping your face with both reluctance and resolution, as if your features are a crown weaved of roses, whose beauty keeps him from pulling away even as the thorns prick him and leave him bleeding. he doesn't relax when you nod, but his gaze searches yours with an intensity reserved only for those he trusts with his heart of glass - you're always careful not to let it shatter. after an eternity of unbroken eye contact, he steals your breath with a kiss before murmuring, "then believe me when i say that we'll make it out of this alive. together."

he was a liar.

CHILDE died the moment he plunged a sword through the chest of a certain blonde-haired traveller, the expression of utter betrayal and disappointment which flashed across their faces keeping him awake in the dead of night when the rest of the world was asleep. TARTAGLIA died in a burst of electro and hydro-infused sparks, the fatui's his foul legacy form flickering wildly as it finally enveloped him whole, collecting the debt he had accrued from all the times he utilised the delusion's strength for battle. as for AJAX? he died long ago, from the second a naively innocent boy fell between the cracks of the world and into the absence of light, his youth snatched away just like his sanity.

yet even as you mourn him, cradling his limp body to yours, you know that his memory will never die - you'll always remember the man who kissed you under inazuma's cherry blossoms and promised you a better future. falling for him may have been a rookie blunder, a rip in the cloak of detachment you keep wrapped around your heart, but even if loving AJAX was a stupid mistake, he'll be the one you miss the most.

for the loml ; @sohyuki - this post is kinda ib hers here !! u should def check it out bc mints writing is so sexc oml,,, tbh idk what's going on this post but yeah im just rolling w it LOL and also fun fact ; cherry blossoms represent the fleeting nature of life 👍 time to cry! taglist will be tagged in an rb when i wake up hehe :)

© starglitterz 2021. do not repost or modify in any way – reblog / follow if you enjoyed !

[rottendollface]

Can I request a Yandere Childe x half-sister reader? I hope you don’t mind but I borrowed some stuff from your other books like

Sugar Storm: for the breeding kink, marriage, virgin reader, FOUL LEGACY, blood magic

Freezing Moon: family abuse, masturbation, pregnancy

Delirium: with magic and alchemy. I hope you know more about alchemy then me :’)

The game Haunting Ground, the main character has this birthmark called “Azoth”. Azoth is necessary in order to create artificial life. Because of this, it can be considered to be the "essence of life" or "soul". It is strongly hinted the Azoth exists inside the female womb as it is the "origin of human life"

Crimson Peak: incest, horror, and grooming. If grooming and child death makes you uncomfortable, that’s okay if you don’t wanna add it

Here’s the Azoth mark

Plot: Reader is the younger half-sister of Childe born from their mother but a different man. Childe’s father was ashamed of her birth and constantly kept her locked up in their house (idk how big it is but i’ll guess it’s big) to which Childe was her only friend growing up. When they reached at that point of age 13-15 Childe “teaches” her how to please a man when she’s old enough to marry but surprise surprise, he wants her to marry him. But he doesn’t want to share her with anyone. They even practice a little “wedding” at some point. He wants to keep her to himself. But they do it in the shadows, hiding, because he knows the trouble they could get in. But during it he ends up getting her pregnant with his kid but their father finds out and accuses Reader of seducing her brother and so he… well let’s just say the punishment ended in something… dark…

Reader loses the baby and this makes it difficult for reader to have anymore children but Childe doesn’t give up that easily. When he joins the Fatui so he can get his sister away from his family, and comes across a book about alchemy, blood magic and the Azoth, and even showing the exact mark like Reader’s birth mark on her back and so he gets to work with wanting to make his sister happy again. And so he sends her the book and instructs her to practice with it…

Sorry if that’s cringe but I’ll leave the rest up to you to fill in the blanks cuz it’s my first time requesting something THIS big 😅

And as Lucille Sharpe from Crimson Peak said: “The things we do for a love like this are ugly, mad, full of sweat and regret. This loves burns you and maims, and twists you inside out. It is a monstrous love, and it makes monsters of us all.”

DAMN BABE WE CAN FILM THE WHOLE MOVIE WITH SUCH A PLOT 😍

I will change the name of Azoth mark if you are okay with it, because I want to make it more original (maybe closer to genshin too 🤔) and escape the necessity to write it as AU. Please tell me if you want to see the mark of Haunting Ground/Crimson Peak AU, and we can talk about details more in private dialogue if you want 🥰

May I make Childe reader's older brother? Pretty please? 🥺🥺🥺 You know, like the one who returnes home with lots of sweets and new toys for his little sister to make her day happier and take care of her, after their father was mean to poor baby again 💔 (no pedo btw, she will be at the age of consent (16-17 y.o) when Childe realised how much he loves her)