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svsss-fanon-exposed · 7 months

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Examining SVSSS Canon: 2/∞

THE PRE-CANON TIMELINE

This post will attempt to provide an answer to several questions, including the ages of some of the current peak lords, as well as a rough timeline of events in the extras relative to the current day. A simple, bullet-point timeline will be at the end of this post, with relevant quotes and analysis above.

The timeline of SVSSS isn't particularly easy to piece together, and many fans are unsure of things such as the ages of certain characters, or how long the current generation of peak lords has been in power. As a matter of fact, it seems like even Airplane himself doesn't have a set timeline in mind for the events of PIDW pre-LBH:

“Your ages?” To tell the truth, Shen Qingqiu didn’t really know the precise age of this body. He raised his head at Shang Qinghua. “Wouldn’t you know better than I do?” Shang Qinghua twirled the brush in his hand. He’d never thought about this question either, so he figured he might as well just say whatever. Therefore he randomly wrote a number down in a couple of strokes. (7 Seas, Ch. 31)

It would be easy enough to take this quote and call the timeline a mystery-- however, there are a surprising amount of clues in the text, enough to at least put together a decent idea of when things happened and how old certain characters are, depending on which theories and interpretations one ascribes to.

There are two particular facts which are our most important hints as to the pre-LBH timeline, upon which this entire analysis hinges.

First, we have the spacing of the Immortal Alliance Conferences:

After much difficulty, Luo Binghe managed to turn seventeen, at which point he finally participated in the event the cultivation world held once every four years: the Immortal Alliance Conference. (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

And next, we have the length of time since Shen Qingqiu began to cultivate:

Before, Shen Qingqiu had thought that this body’s qualifications were already incredible, to have formed a core in only ten or so years when he’d begun cultivation so late. (7 Seas, Ch. 19)

Notably here, what is translated as "ten or so years" is 十几年， which is more accurately "ten and a few years." This means that at the time Shen Qingqiu formed a golden core, he had been at Cang Qiong Mountain for around 10-15 years, but likely no longer or shorter than that.

This tells us quite a bit already-- because we know that Shen Qingqiu only reached core formation after becoming peak lord, as well as after Luo Binghe had already become a disciple:

Luo Binghe was using the incorrect cultivation manual that Shen Qingqiu had handed him; he should have long since died bleeding from the seven apertures, his body rupturing down to his bones, skin, meridians, tendons, and flesh... Shen Qingqiu was filled with paranoia; he forever felt like everyone was secretly talking behind his back, discussing how he’d been unable to attain Core Formation even after this long. (7 Seas, Ch. 24)

So this tells us that it could not have been any longer than around 15 years between Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe joining Cang Qiong Mountain, and was likely at least a few years less than that because it has already been awhile since Luo Binghe was given the fake manual, which likely occured shortly after he arrived, and Shen Qingqiu reaches core formation at some point after this scene.

This means that the Qing generation's ascenscion likely occured no more than ten years after Shen Qingqiu joined the sect-- putting the ages for Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan respectively at roughly twenty-six and twenty-nine when they became peak lords.

The timeline can be clarified further and expanded, however, due to the spacing of the IAC. We know that the IAC occured when Luo Binghe was seventeen, and that it occurs every four years-- meaning that there would have been IAC taking place also when he was thirteen, nine, five, one, and three years before he was born.

However, we also know that it had not actually been fourteen years since Luo Binghe's birth at the start of SVSSS.

In the translation, Luo Binghe says the following when Shen Qingqiu asks his age:

“This disciple is fourteen,” Luo Binghe obediently replied. (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

However, the original says:

洛冰河乖巧地道：“弟子虚岁十四。”

"虚岁" here would be better translated as "nominal age." In ancient times, a child was one year old on the day of their birth, and aged up by one year with each new year-- so if a child was born the day before the new year, then at two days old he would already be counted as two years old. Sometimes, this would be counted on the spring festival new year, but other times it would be counted on the winter solstice.

As for Luo Binghe's precise chronological age, that is up for some determination. We know roughly the time of year he was born:

Immediately after birth, Luo Binghe was abandoned by his parents, swaddled in white cloth, and put in a wooden basin that was lowered into the Luo River. This occurred on the coldest days of the year... (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

The "coldest days of the year" here is 数九寒天, which refers to the nine periods of nine days each following the winter solstice. The winter solstice typically occurs on December 20-21, meaning that Luo Binghe's birth date is somewhere between December 20-March 12. If nominal age is being counted by winter solstice in this world, then that makes him chronologically thirteen at the start of SVSSS, but if it is calculated by the spring festival, then he is chronologically either twelve or thirteen at the start of SVSSS, as the Chinese new year can fall anywhere between January 21 - February 21, meaning that LBH could have been born either before or after this time.

So, let's just say that LBH's chronological age, for the purposes here, is thirteen, and then adjust our IAC timeline as follows：

There was one when he was chronologically sixteen, twelve, eight, four, the year he was born, and four years before he was born.

Now, how does this help us determine a timeline?

Well, we have the following statement:

Yue Qingyuan’s knuckles slowly brushed along Xuan Su’s hilt. “I was able to meet Senior Su Xiyan once at an Immortal Alliance Conference, many years ago." (7 Seas, Ch. 18)

Because we know that Su Xiyan died when Luo Binghe was born, we know that this meeting could not have occured at any conferences after his birth. It also would be unlikely that they met the same year Luo Binghe was born, as Su Xiyan would likely already be dead at that point if LBH was born after the new year. So, the latest that Yue Qingyuan could have met Su Xiyan would be twenty years before Luo Binghe was thrown into the Abyss.

We now combine this with the earlier discussion of the ages of Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan, and here I will note the following:

Yue Qingyuan slowly said, “At age fifteen, I entered Qiong Ding Peak." (7 Seas, Ch. 21)

This puts Yue Qingyuan roughly three years older than Shen Jiu:

“When [Shen Jiu] was twelve years old, he was but a slave my family had purchased from traveling child traffickers. " (7 Seas, Ch. 6)

Shen Jiu joined Cang Qiong Mountain at sixteen:

Liu Qingge didn’t even grace him with a sideways glance. “But certainly more success than a nobody who only began proper cultivation at age sixteen.” (7 Seas, Ch. 19)

This happened most likely directly after reuniting with Yue Qingyuan at an Immortal Alliance Conference. This puts Yue Qingyuan's age at nineteen during that conference, at which point he is head disciple, and has already gained some fame. However, this reunion has to occur before Luo Binghe's birth, Su Xiyan's death, and Tianlang-jun's defeat. This is because at this point, Yue Qingyuan has only been in Cang Qiong Mountain for four years-- thus, this particular conference is almost certainly the first one he has taken part in, and likely the first one he has attended at all, since a brand-new disciple in early stages of training most likely wouldn't have gone, therefore if Tianlang-jun had already been sealed by this point, Yue Qingyuan would not have had the chance to meet Su Xiyan.

So, the latest Shen Qingqiu could have joined Cang Qiong Mountain, at age 16, is twenty years before the Abyss, which would put him at age thirty-six at the youngest at that time.

Now, what about additional conference cycles?

It's possible that the conference in which Yue Qingyuan met Su Xiyan and/or after which Shen Qingqiu joined CQM may have been the one before this-- but that would also add four additional years to the time SQQ had been cultivating.

The earliest that Luo Binghe could have joined CQM would be when he was a little over ten years old, as that is when his mother dies:

On the bed lay a haggard old woman. With great effort, she tried to prop herself up, but from beginning to end, she was unable to do so. A small figure rushed in from outside. A tender-faced Luo Binghe, only a little over ten years old, supported the woman. Around his neck hung that jade pendant. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Shen Qingqiu had not reached core formation when Luo Binghe joined the sect. This means that if the IAC where SQQ joined the sect was four years before Luo Binghe's birth, then by the time Luo Binghe joins the sect it has been about fourteen to fifteen years since SQQ began cultivating.

Adding an additional four years would bump that to eighteen to nineteen years, which exceeds the "ten and some" years that SQQ took to reach core formation.

In my opinion, this also tells me that LBH joined CQM when he was absolutely no older than ten or eleven, and likely went to join immediately after his mother's death, because pushing LBH's join date later would also stretch the timeline of SQQ's cultivation. Now, this part does not specify whether the ten years old is nominal age or chronological age-- but because LBH's age of seventeen at the conference is referenced to his nominal age of fourteen, with a distance between of three years, then I am considering all age-numbers to be nominal age rather than chronological. This only really matters in regards to Luo Binghe for this analysis, though, as his birth year is the only one which has bearing on the timeline in regards to Su Xiyan's status.

With all of this information, we can determine with good confidence that the conference in which Yue Qingyuan met Su Xiyan was the same conference during which he reunited with Shen Qingqiu, which occured four years before Luo Binghe was born and twenty years before the Endless Abyss.

So because of this, we actually do have a relatively precise timeline of characters' ages, as well as events in the cultivation world.

This short timeline is also supported by the fact that Ming Fan is the most senior of Shen Qingqiu's disciples, and he is only sixteen, about 2-3 years older than Luo Binghe:

A youth around sixteen years old, tall and thin, promptly ran in through the door. “This disciple is here. What instructions does Shifu have?” (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

Had the Qing generation ascended too many years prior to Luo Binghe's joining the sect, it would be strange that the most senior disciple of Shen Qingqiu's was only sixteen, as in xianxia a disciple typically will not "graduate" at a certain age or cultivation stage, meaning that older disciples will maintain their role well into adulthood.

As for the rest of the peak lords, we have little to no information regarding the ages of Wei Qingwei, Qi Qingqi, or Mu Qingfang. However, we do know that Liu Qingge is quite young, and joined the sect both at an optimal age and a significant length of time before Shen Qingqiu:

At this point, Liu Qingge’s formal ascension to Bai Zhan Peak Lord, too, had likely only happened a couple years ago. There was a visible air of immaturity about his features, his gaze fierce and sharp, and within his every action was a young man’s spirited vigor. (7 Seas, Ch. 19)

and

Therefore, even though he’d entered the sect quite some time after Liu Qingge, because Qing Jing Peak was ranked second—only below Qiong Ding Peak—while Bai Zhan Peak was ranked seventh, Liu Qingge still had to address Shen Qingqiu as “Shixiong,” if through gritted teeth. (7 Seas, Ch. 24)

So, Liu Qingge is likely a year or two younger than Shen Qingqiu, but not by too much, since they still behave very much like contemporaries as teenagers-- let's say that Liu Qingge is likely around 14-15 when Shen Qingqiu joins the sect at age 16.

The other peak lord we know a bit about the age of is Shang Qinghua:

The older-than-average outer disciple Shang Qinghua, who currently occupied a seventeen-year-old body, looked around in all directions as he trailed behind the main team, who were unloading goods from the ship onto the docks. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

He is seventeen here, and an outer disciple of An Ding Peak. We can place this a bit more definitively on the timeline by the fact that Shen Qingqiu is already a head disciple at this point in time:

“What I don’t know is how Shen Qingqiu got chosen as head disciple after starting cultivation so late,” said another outer disciple who’d joined Cang Qiong Mountain at an older age, his expression sour. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Unfortunately, we cannot place the exact point in time where Shen Qingqiu became head disciple-- one possibility is that it couldn't have happened until after Tianlang-jun's defeat, which occured about four years after he joined the sect, since he did not participate in the battle. But that is a weak argument, since none of the current generation besides Yue Qingyuan participated in that battle:

Of the current peak lords, only Yue Qingyuan had participated in that battle, as the head disciple of Qiong Ding Peak. (7 Seas, Ch. 17)

If using this argument, then that would mean that aside from Yue Qingyuan, none of the other peak lords had been chosen as head disciples at that time-- while that is a possibility, I think that a more feasible explanation would be that Yue Qingyuan was an exception, and participated in the battle specifically because of his wielding Xuan Su.

One thing we can extrapolate, however, is that Shang Qinghua was most likely an inner disciple for at least three years before the Qing generation's ascension. This is because of the following:

One day, Shang Qinghua’s concise Great System delivered a new command: Become the An Ding Peak head disciple within three years. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Now, it is somewhat loose evidence, as there is nothing to say that "three years" means for certain that the ascension would occur three years from that point, but it does mean that it occured no earlier than that. By now, Shang Qinghua has already been an inner disciple for some time, long enough to have been assisted by Mobei-jun a few times and to have gone on several missions-- most likely around a few months to a year or so at minimum.

Of course, how long has passed between Shen Qingqiu joining the sect and this point? Well, since Shen Qingqiu is still described as a youth:

Shang Qinghua suddenly heard the tinkling of sword tassel pendants, and a youth wearing Qing Jing Peak’s uniform slowly approached him. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Because of this description, I would say that Shen Qingqiu is most likely between seventeen and his early twenties, since it isn't particularly likely that he would become head disciple in less than a year after joining the sect. Of course, within this age range, there is one important event that occurs-- the battle of Bai Lu mountain, which would have occured when Shen Qingqiu was twenty and Yue Qingyuan was twenty-three.

Now, this gets into more of a speculation than anything else-- just before this point, Mobei-jun attacked Huan Hua Palace and the An Ding Peak disciples. If the battle of Bai Lu Mountain had already occured, it would have happened no more than a few years earlier. We also know that there is a tentative truce between the demon realm and the cultivation world:

This suggestion was solid. For many years, the Human and Demon Realms had maintained an uneasy balance and had yet to drop the pretense of peace. Eliminating Sha Hualing and her mob wouldn’t be impossible, but it would likely light a fuse. The demons definitely wouldn’t let her death go unanswered, and it wouldn’t be worth it if they stirred up an even greater conflict. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

I suspect that this pretense of peace was likely set in place after the battle of Bai Lu Mountain, when the demon realm had just lost their ruler.

Since just a short time had happened since the demons' defeat and a likely truce between the realms, I find it unlikely that Mobei-jun, a prominent member of demonic nobility, at this time would be actively antagonizing the cultivation world by attacking Huan Hua Palace and Cang Qiong Mountain. Now, of course, there is a potential alternate storyline that this is exactly what happened, and Mobei-jun went rogue as an act of lashing out, and that interpretation would be perfectly valid on its own.

Personally, though, I believe that Shang Qinghua's meeting with Mobei-jun occured before the battle of Bai Lu Mountain, while the cultivation world and demon world were in the tense state on the edge of war. This means that Shang Qinghua most likely became an inner disciple when Shen Qingqiu was around 17-19 years old.

With this information, we can determine some relative ages:

Yue Qingyuan is three years older than Shen Qingqiu, who is a little older than Liu Qingge. Because Shang Qinghua was seventeen when Shen Qingqiu was already head disciple, it is most likely that he is around Liu Qingge's age, give or take a few years, as it is not particularly likely (though potentially possible) for Shen Qingqiu to have gone from new disciple to head disciple in the space of a single year.

Aside from these four, there are no other ages that can be determined for the peak lords.

With all of this information, a fairly decent timeline can be created. Characters' ages will be listed with each notable year.

《 THE TIMELINE 》

*counted up to the start of SVSSS. If using this timeline, keep in mind that the earliest and latest notes for date ranges can overlap-- do not accidentally have a disciple join the sect before the current peak lords ascend, or have SQH become head disciple after ascension! Dates with ranges are colored green (earliest) and red (latest).

Earlier than -21 YR

LQG: <;10-11

(earliest) Liu Qingge joins Cang Qiong Mountain

-21 YR

LQG: 10-11, SQQ: 12, YQY: 15, QHT: <16, QJL: 16

Shen Jiu sold to Qiu Jianluo

Yue Qi joins Cang Qiong Mountain

--IAC--

-19 YR

LQG: 12-13, SQQ: 14, YQY: 17

(earliest*) Yue Qingyuan enters the Lingxi Caves with Xuan Su

-18 YR

LQG: 13-14, SQQ: 15, YQY: 18, QHT: <19, QJL: 19

(latest*) Yue Qingyuan enters the Lingxi Caves with Xuan Su

Shen Jiu kills Qiu Jianluo and burns down Qiu Manor

Shen Jiu becomes Wu Yanzi's disciple

(earliest*) Yue Qi leaves the Lingxi Caves

(earliest*) Yue Qi becomes head disciple

(latest) Liu Qingge joins Cang Qiong Mountain

-17 YR

LQG: 14-15, SQQ: 16, YQY: 19

(latest*) Yue Qi leaves the Lingxi Caves

(latest*) Yue Qi becomes head disciple

--IAC--

Yue Qingyuan meets Su Xiyan

Shen Jiu kills Wu Yanzi and joins Cang Qiong Mountain

-16 YR

LQG: 15-16, SQH: 15-17, SQQ: 17, YQY: 20

(earliest) Shen Qingqiu becomes Head Disciple

(earliest) Shang Qinghua meets Mobei-jun and becomes inner disciple at age 17

(earliest) Shang Qinghua receives the directive to become head disciple within three years

(earliest) Shang Qinghua becomes head disciple

-14 YR

MF: 2, LQG: 17-18, SQH: 17-19, SQQ: 19, YQY: 22

(latest) Shen Qingqiu becomes Head Disciple

(latest) Shang Qinghua meets Mobei-jun and becomes inner disciple at age 17

(earliest**) Su Xiyan imprisoned and subjected to torture in Water Prison

(earliest**) Battle of Bai Lu Mountain

(earliest**) Tianlang-jun Sealed

-13 YR

NYY: <1, LBH: 1, MF: 3, LQG: 18-19, SQH: 18-20, SQQ: 20, YQY: 23

(latest**) Su Xiyan imprisoned and subjected to torture in Water Prison

(latest**) Battle of Bai Lu Mountain

(latest**) Tianlang-jun Sealed

Luo Binghe is Born

Su Xiyan Dies

(earliest) Qing Generation ascend to become Peak Lords

--IAC--

-11 YR

NYY: 2-3, LBH: 3, MF: 5, LQG: 20-21, SQH: 20-22, SQQ: 22, YQY: 25

(earliest***) Ming Fan joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

-9 YR

NYY: 4-5, LBH: 5, MF: 7, LQG: 22-23, SQH: 22-24, SQQ: 24, YQY: 27

--IAC--

-8 YR

NYY: 5-6, LBH: 6, MF: 8, LQG: 23-24, SQH: 23-25, SQQ: 25, YQY: 28

(latest) Shang Qinghua receives the directive to become head disciple within three years

(earliest***) Ning Yingying joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

-5 YR

NYY: 8-9, LBH: 9, MF: 11, LQG: 27-28, SQH: 27-29, SQQ: 29, YQY: 32

--IAC--

(latest) Shang Qinghua becomes head disciple

(latest) Qing Generation ascend to become Peak Lords

(latest) Ming Fan joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

-4 YR

NYY: 9-10, LBH: 10, MF: 12, LQG: 28-29, SQH: 28-30, SQQ: 30, YQY: 33

Luo Binghe's adoptive mother dies

(earliest) Luo Binghe joins Qing Jing Peak

(earliest) Shen Qingqiu reaches Core Formation

-3 YR

NYY: 10-11, LBH: 11, MF: 13, LQG: 29-30, SQH: 29-31, SQQ: 31, YQY: 34

(latest****) Ning Yingying joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

(latest) Luo Binghe joins Qing Jing Peak

-2 YR

NYY: 11-12, LBH: 12, MF: 14, LQG: 30-31, SQH: 30-32, SQQ: 32, YQY: 35

(latest*****) Shen Qingqiu reaches Core Formation

-1 YR

NYY: 12-13, LBH: 13, MF: 15

--IAC--

Year 0

NYY: 13-14, LBH: 14, MF: 16

SVSSS Begins

-----

This timeline operates under the following conditions. For some of these conditions, alternatives are discussed in the post above-- if you wish to use any of the alternative calculations, then you're more than welcome to adjust the timeline as applicable for your own use!

"Years" are counted from the first day of the spring festival/Chinese new year, rather than January 1

All character ages are nominal ages, so they were born in the year they are counted as age "1"

Luo Binghe was born after the new year, and so his nominal age is only about one year higher than chronological.

Shang Qinghua met Mobei-jun before the battle of Bai Lu Mountain

The system's time limit for SQH does reference the time of the Qing generation's ascension

The Immortal Alliance Conference takes place roughly in the middle of the year. Based on the fact that it is warm enough for the disciples to dip their feet into a stream and find that pleasant, it would make sense for the IAC to occur in a warmer season (Ch. 4)

Further References and Footnotes:

*Yue Qi was in the Lingxi Caves for more than one year and Qiu Manor had already been destroyed by the time he got out (Ch. 21)

**The birth of Luo Binghe occured a few days after the battle of Bai Lu Mountain. Depending on when LBH was born, it could be at the end of year -13 or the first few days of year -12 (Ch. 21)

***We do not know the earliest a child can join Cang Qiong Mountain, even though the appropriate age for cultivation most likely cuts off somewhere around 15 (due to YQY joining at that age and no comments about him being "too old"). For the purposes of this timeline, I am setting the absolute youngest to age 5, but more realistically a disciple wouldn't join until age 8-10 at the earliest.

****It is unknown whether the only time that disciples can join Cang Qiong Mountain is during the recruitment trials. Therefore, there remains a possibility for Ning Yingying to have joined the sect in the same year as Luo Binghe, but at some point before the recruitment trials due to connections. This can potentially be supported by Shen Jiu joining after the IAC, but at the same time, it is not confirmed that SJ joined CQM immediately, or if he had to wait until the next recruitment trial, so there is no clear canon precedent-- nonetheless, it is still possible. Note that Ning Yingying can only join at this late point if Luo Binghe joins at age 11, and after her. The only hard requirement is that NYY joined at some point before LBH.

*****I have placed this as the absolute latest time SQQ could have formed a golden core because this puts him at having been cultivating for sixteen years. It is a bit of a stretch already , but I don't think that "ten and a few" years could really be any longer than this. It is also worth noting that by the time SQQ reaches core formation, every other peak lord has already done so, with Yue Qingyuan first, Liu Qingge and Qi Qingqi next, and Shang Qinghua most likely last (Ch. 24)

Please let me know if you notice any errors in calculation, formatting, or missing details! This was quite substantial so there's a good chance I may have missed something.

Some of the points in this analysis and timeline calculations were brainstormed with the help of @zykamiliah , @cum-villain , @furbygoblinxiv . Many thanks!

#svsss #canon examined #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #yue qingyuan #liu qingge #shang qinghua #svsss timeline #resource

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slutshamethesquirrels · 3 months

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A First Time For Everything

choso x fem!reader

length: 10.7K

tw: religious guilt, drug use, nsfw, loss of virginity

You left your small hometown to pursue your dreams. Along the way, you've encountered new experiences and challenges that shake your beliefs to your core. In your new city, you meet Choso, who challenges your beliefs and introduces you to a different way of thinking. As you navigate this evolving new life, you find yourself drawn to him, leading to an exciting journey and a whole lot of firsts.

All you could think about was how disappointed your mother would be. You could see her there, in your tiny hometown, crying into a cup of coffee at the local diner, her friend rubbing her back affectionately. She'd tell her friend that she didn't know where she'd gone wrong, and her friend would sigh and quote scripture and tell her some old saying about how no lamb can stray too far from the herd for the shepherd to find again.

Would the preacher give a sermon on Sunday morning? About the devil and how he presents not as himself, but as pleasure? As sex and drugs and money? As freedom?

Six months ago, when you’d graduated college and took a job in a big city a thousand miles away, you'd never have pictured yourself in the predicament you found yourself in now. You wanted to experience, to learn, to breathe in the world around you and expand your mind. To you, that meant working, and trying new foods, maybe taking an art class.

It definitely never occurred to you that it might mean sitting on the cement of a skate park with three alternative men, watching the youngest of the three pack a - what did they call it again? - right, a ‘bowl’ full of weed to pass around the circle.

It makes you nervous, watching the setting sun dance off the pink top of his hair, handling an illegal substance so brazenly, out in the open like the cops couldn't roll up at any minute, like god wasn't watching-

A hand on your back between your shoulder blades, rubbing affectionately, reassuringly.

You look up to meet his eyes, flashing a small forced smile.

“I’m okay, Choso. I promise.”

Ah, if the devil presented as everything you wanted, then Choso Kamo may be Satan himself.

He’d frightened you the first time you'd met him. It was at a bar, sometime early in the night. You’d never drank before and wanted the experience of sipping a cocktail at the high tops, maybe shooting pool with a handsome stranger. You'd quickly learned that cocktails were vast and varied, and strangers came in so many different shapes and sizes out here. Unfamiliar ones, scary ones.

You’d simply asked the bartender for the special, and had been met with something that tasted like drinking straight cough syrup. It made you gag. Too heavy, too sweet, and to top it all off it burned.

He’d slid up to the bar a few seats away and you'd almost pissed yourself. He was huge, muscular, with a thick solid line tattooed across the bridge of his pierced nose. Tattoos decorated his arms, plastered the muscle that threatened to tear the fabric of his intentionally tattered t-shirt from the inside out. It was a deep maroon color, and it made the pale of his skin almost glow in the dark bar lighting. He was distressed jeans and combat boots and danger and fire. Alternatively styled hair, pigtails that somehow looked masculine on him. Tattoos and piercings and just the faintest hint of eyeliner. He was everything you had been taught to avoid. Everything that had ever been off limits.

And the way a match ignited in your stomach as you watched him order? That was definitely the cocktail.

And the way saliva started to pool in your throat when you watched him reach into his pocket to produce his wallet with special attention to the way his eyelashes fluttered? That was definitely the cocktail.

And the way you felt like vomiting when he'd caught you staring? Stupid fucking cocktail.

Or that's what you had told yourself.

When he’d approached, it wasn't what you expected, not at all what the movies taught you. He’d introduced himself, shook your hand, asked what you were sipping on.

“I actually-” you’d looked at your glass in disapproval “I don't know. I don't really drink but it's kind of gross.”

He’d giggled, boyish and in direct opposition to his appearance and you'd had to grip the bar for support despite already sitting.

“Yeah, I bet! Looks like it's 98 percent juice.” His brows had raised, a genuine smile plastered across his face. The whites of his canines made you feel like you were dying in the best way possible. It was overwhelming. You couldn't breathe.

“You can try mine, I haven't touched it yet. So, you know, no cooties or whatever-”

He slid his glass over to you. It was clear and bubbly, a lemon wedge floating in the top. Unable to even speak real human words back to him when he looked so good, you'd hesitantly pulled his straw between your lips, eyes gazing up at him as his gaze locked directly onto the way your mouth moved, unsure of why his expression faltered momentarily.

You took a sip and your face lit up. It was refreshing, almost like sparkling water. The liquor was there, but it didn't burn like yours. It was smooth and cooling.

“This is so good!”

He seems to be pleased by your excitement, his smile going soft “Yeah? It's a gin and tonic, I can buy you one, if you'd like.”.

Your expression must've told him you weren't sure. Isn't that what men did when they wanted to have sex with you?

“No expectations, I promise.”

He seemed so genuine that you'd gladly agreed.

And when he'd asked for your number, or if you wanted to hangout at his house with him and his younger brother, or if you would like to learn to skateboard- it was much the same.

Since that night, the two of you had melded into each other's lives effortlessly. Choso was sweet and kind, always respectful. His younger brother Yuji lived with him after the untimely passing of their mother. Yugi’s boyfriend, Megumi, was always around as well. Being around the three of them made you nostalgic for something you never had. Sometimes, the feeling you would get when watching the siblings fight over a game of Monopoly called back to the tightness of your chest during worship on Sundays. You used to think it was God speaking to you, but now you weren't so sure.

You weren't sure what the nature of your relationship was with Choso, either. Sometimes, he felt like a friend and nothing more. When he’d send you random goofy memes, or pretend to be upset when you couldn't come over. Other times, you thought that maybe he liked you. When you'd sit a little too close while watching a movie and catch him more concerned with watching you than the film. Or when he'd walk you to your car at night and linger just a bit too long at your window. Or when he’d insist upon you staying the night. But when you did agree to stay, he’d always tuck you into his bed and then head downstairs to sleep on the couch, often complaining the next morning about how Megumi and Yuji kept him up all night.

You didn't know the first thing about men, but surely if he liked you, he’d make the first move, right?

On the other hand, you'd come to learn just how shy Choso actually was. He preferred ordering delivery to avoid talking to strangers, wrote down scripts for himself before making phone calls, and tried his best to keep interactions with cashiers and bank tellers to a minimum. You’d wondered before what made him talk to you in the bar that night all those weeks ago.

“You sure? You look like your eyes are about to pop out of your head- ow!” Yuji’s voice brings you back to the present, giggling as he fails to dodge a playful blow to the back of his scalp from Megumi.

“I’m fine , you guys! I promise!” you insist as Yuji finishes packing the bowl with the corner of his lighter.

A few short minutes later and Choso’s on his knees in front of you, holding the bowl for you with a steady hand as you take a deep breath, preparing yourself mentally for your first time ever smoking. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, your father yells and throws a glass plate at the dining room wall, but even the glass shattering is hard to hear when Megumi and Yuji are peering around Choso on either side, their faces akin to children on Christmas. Like getting you high for the first time was the greatest thing they'd ever do.

“Ready? Last chance to chicken out.” Choso’s words are teasing but his tone is gentle, kind. He's offering you a lifeline in a way that will still make him seem cool in front of his brother, and you know it.

“I was born ready.” you bold-face lie.

With that, you attach your lips to the mouthpiece, your eyes following Choso’s hand as he brings the flame of the lighter to the bud, giving you a gentle command:

“Inhale. Slowly.”

And so you do. He’d warned you that you wouldn't get anything until he moved his thumb from the air hole on the side, but somehow you’re still shocked when the flavor hits you. It's foreign, earthy, a little sour but not entirely unpleasant. It tickles as it slides down your throat and Choso pulls the glass piece away from you, passing it to Yuji.

Coming up isn't half as pleasant. The ticklish feeling now burns, and your lungs feel tingly and odd. You cough, once lightly and then violently. By the fifth one you think you may throw up. Your mouth feels dry and you can't comprehend why the boy’s would willingly do this to themselves.

It doesn't take long to understand, though.

Within a few minutes and another turn in the rotation, the world is softer, your thoughts not so organized and pointed. Everything is pretty, and silly, and any sensory input feels like you're experiencing it for the first time.

Yuji asks you stupid questions, has you rattling off haphazardly strung together and entirely too far thought-out opinions. Megumi seems to find this greatly amusing. It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh, you think.

And Choso?

He keeps inching closer. You're not sure if he even intends for it to be that way, but eventually you end up sitting between his splayed open legs, your back against his chest and your fingers absentmindedly toying with the frayed holes in the thighs of his jeans. If the weight of the two of your bodies is too much he doesn't say so, his palms splayed out on the concrete behind him.

The two of you watch the younger couple skate from above, your eyes carefully trailing back and forth between them. You weren't sure how they ended up together. Megumi was a bit of a hard ass, he almost came off as pretentious if you didn't know him well enough. And then there was Yugi, who was loud and rambunctious and overly extroverted. You wondered who had bullied who into falling in love, and you giggle at the thought.

“What is it, pot head?” Choso asks from above you.

The boys had been teasing you about your “weed problem” all evening.

“Do you think Megumi bullied Yuji into dating him or was it the other way around?” You ask candidly, and this time Choso chuckles, vibrating your spine.

“I’d put money on it being the other way around. Yuji’s tougher than people give him credit for.”

A few silent, thoughtful moments pass and then he adds:

“Plus, Megumi’s super introverted. He's kind of like me in that way. I can't imagine he'd make the first move.”

For a moment, it's lost on you, but after it rolls around in the fuzziness of your brain for a while it dawns upon you that his words might've been a hint of sorts. You shift so that you can see his face, your legs swinging over his thigh and your elbows resting on the other for support, half laying on his lap.

“Yeah?” You prod, trying your best not to get lost in the deep chocolate of his eyes or the curve of his jaw.

He really was beautiful. Today, his hair is down, surrounding his face in a shaggy frame that makes him look a little softer. There's a red twinge coating the skin of his cheeks under his tattoo, but you couldn't decide if it was from the heat or not.

“Yeah” he breathes as his eyes scan your face, almost like he's in awe of you.

His eyes settle on your lips and you watch him swallow harshly.

It reminds you that your own mouth exists, and its dry as hell.

“Choso?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm thirsty.”

Your admission seems to jar him out of the haze as he cracks into a giggle, his nose scrunching up and eyes crinkling at the corners. You're pretty sure he's never looked better.

“We have some water bottles in the car, you wanna walk with me?”

Of course you do, you think you’d go everywhere with him if you had the time and money to do so.

A few minutes later the two of you are sitting in his car with the AC on full blast and the radio on low. Of course what was supposed to be a two minute venture out to the parking lot had lengthened when Choso had offered to show you a new band he had discovered.

Usually, his music was too heavy for you, but you actually didn't mind this one all that much. It had it's moments, but the incomprehensible screaming was spaced out, intermingled with melodic guitar and an only-slightly intolerably whiny vocalist.

“So, does this one get the y/n stamp of approval?” He asks.

You faux-ponder for a moment, tapping your finger against your chin thoughtfully before you give him the expected answer:

“No, but it's better than the last one.”

“Oh, come on! I thought for sure I’d have you this time!” He groans, jutting his bottom lip out like you’d really hurt his feelings.

“Sorry, big guy. The only whiney little man I like is you-”

It slipped out before you could even stop yourself, your face immediately flushing at the admission, horrified that you just said that. You were never smoking weed again.

What if he didn't feel that way? What if he was disgusted by the thought of you having feelings for him? What if he didn't want to be friends anymore? What if-

“I mean, I-”

“Do you mean it?” His tone is flat but his eyes are wide, observant, drinking in every minute detail of your expression. You're mortified.

“No!”

“Oh.” His face falls and his shoulders droop, and your heart cracks a little at the sight.

“I mean, not like that! I just-”

He chuckles a little, but it sounds strained. Slumping into his seat and tapping his hands on the bottom of the steering wheel awkwardly, he doesn't pull his eyes from his own fingers as he speaks “Y/n, it's fine. Really. You're not obligated to like me just because you're a woman and my friend. I'll live.”.

Fuck.

How were you supposed to fix this? How could you get out of this situation without admitting to your little crush? Either way, the dynamic of your relationship would change from here on out.

You tried to summon your bravery, but in the end it was futile.

You didn't like the way the change was playing out.

Choso’s texts to you slowed over the next few weeks, and then eventually stopped altogether. You had yet to be invited back over to his place or out to the skate park by him personally, instead getting invites from Yuji, all ending with the speculation that you could come “if you want”. Not a direct invitation, not a enthusiastic expression of a desire for your presence, and definitely not from the person you wanted it from.

You wondered if you had told him the truth, would it be like this?

You missed him. The smell of his cologne, dark and earthy and smokey. The way it felt to fall asleep on his shoulder watching TV. His penchant for take out, his awkward demeanor. You’d even forced yourself to listen to his playlists. It felt like a piece of you had died.

Out here in the big city, surrounded by a million strangers, yet feeling alone because the ones you chose had been taken from you as punishment for your lack of nuts.

You check your phone after work before heading home, unsurprised to find no new notifications, but disappointed nonetheless. You almost text him, tell him you miss him, but it felt wrong. So instead, you put his playlist on and start your drive.

Fittingly, it was pouring rain, effectively turning the concrete of the city into a pond. Traffic creeps forward, inch by miserable fucking inch, and you think how much better this would be if he was in your passenger seat. Shit, it would even be better if you could just call him. Your emotions swell and blur together. You're mournful over the loss, regretful over your choice of words, angry at him for not just telling you what he was thinking. Angry at your hometown for driving you out, angry at your mother for never calling, angry at god for keeping the rest of the big wide world from you for so long. Angry at god for keeping Choso from you for so long.

Someone blares on their horn a couple lanes away and you sober, come to a revelation of sorts. You’d thrown god the middle finger a long time ago. He couldn't stop you from living, from experiencing. And by that logic, he couldn't keep Choso from you either. Not if you had any say in the matter.

You don't drive home, taking a turn instead two exits early. You’d memorized the route to their house, didn't need a GPS to lead you into their suburb.

When you pull into the drive Choso’s car is the only one parked outside, but quite frankly you didn't care who was there. You march out of your car with the determination of a soldier, not bothering to worry about how the rain was absolutely pouring down. By the time you reach the door you’re absolutely soaked, with your hair plastered to your face and your business casual button up transparent, clinging to your frame.

You pound on the door with force and wait for a few moments, and then pound again. You know he doesn't like to answer the door to strangers. He's not impolite enough to tell religious canvassers to piss off, and everytime it's a salesman he buys whatever product they're pushing just to get them to leave.

Third time's the charm.

He opens the door in nothing but a charcoal pair of sweatpants, his hair messy and disheveled like he’d just woken up at 6pm. His tattoos are on full display, but his torso remains untouched by ink, giving you a full view of his pecs, his abs, and that v shape above his hips that has you breathing funny. You shamelessly trail your eyes down his body.

“You're soaked.” He meekly points out, and you realize he must've been sizing you up as well, because his lips are parted and his face is flushed when you jerk your eyes back up to meet his gaze.

Fuck it.

You take two steps forward and jerk him down to you by the nape of his neck, crashing your lips into his with a fervent heat. You would explain later. Right now all that mattered was the way he grunted against your lips, the way his tongue felt pushing past the plush barrier to swirl against yours, the way his hands gripped your sides like they were sculpted to do just that. He tastes like weed and mint and something sweet, and you think you maybe could get addicted to something like that.

He pulls back but you’re not finished yet, lapping hungrily at the sensitive skin of his neck. It was the best you could do with the height difference.

“Y/n. Inside, please.” He slurs, groaning and gripping you tighter as you transition from licking to sucking, ignoring his request entirely.

You hit a spot he must like, because he gasps and then his hands are scrambling to the wet backs of your thighs, hoisting you up to his waist and retreating into the familiar space.

Once the two of you are inside he sits you down, his hands scrambling to put some space between the two of you, grasping at your wrists and pushing on your chest just slightly. You both know he could easily shove you off if he wanted, but as always his manners are entirely too poised for that type of behavior.

But you’re hooked on the flavor of his skin, lapping at any place you can reach with desperation. You missed him so much, you needed him. Closer and harder and more-

He barks your name, unusually harsh, and it snaps you out of your lusty haze a little.

“Sorry,” He apologizes when he catches your disappointment, his hands reaching up to cup your face, lips pressing to the damp skin of your forehead gently to remedy his harshness “You're absolutely drenched, love. And it seems like we need to talk.”.

It's almost impossible to tuck away your need, but you manage, somehow.

Thirty minutes later and you're wrapped in one of his hoodies, the sheer size of it large enough to fall at mid-thigh.

With the daylight streaming through the window, Choso’s bedroom looks different. You’d never noticed before just how much of a collector he was. You knew he had shelves full of nick-nacks and oddities, but in the light they seemed far larger in number than you’d ever noticed before. He had an interest in the occult, a fact that had once scared you, but now you knew it to be harmless.

Every crystal, jar of herbs, and statuette had a meaning. You’d ask him about it sometimes, which rock was supposed to represent good fortune, or which little wax sealed spell jar was for protection.

Choso viewed spirituality not as a guide book for how to enter heaven, but an encyclopedia for exploring the unknown. You loved that about him. He didn't need one divine being to judge whether or not he was a good person, he just was .

The two of you sit at the top of his bed, your backs pressed against the headboard, your legs against the top of his plush comforter. It's such a deep shade of purple it's almost black.

The tension between the two of you is somewhat awkward. You were sitting close enough to feel each other's heat, but neither one dared to touch. You kept yourself busy by twisting your fingers together, trying not to think about how tense he was beside you. His arms were clenched tightly across his chest, as if defending himself from the thick air, and when you stole a glance at him you wondered how he hadn't bitten through his cheek yet with how hard he was chewing on it.

Several times, one of you opens your mouth to speak, but words evade you.

Eventually, you tap your bare toes against Choso's playfully. Once, twice, three times.

“Weirdo,” he teases “You come in my house, you kiss me, you steal my clothes and now you wanna hold toes?”

You gasp, full of faux offense “Excuse me?! I am not trying to hold your toes! If I wanted to hold your toes, I’d do this- ”.

You slide your body down a bit so you can reach and curl your toes over the top of his. Immediately, he recoils, sarcastically gagging, but its interrupted by giggles as he tries to no avail to squirm away from you.

“You freak!” He laughs, desperately shuffling away from you as you latch onto his body, attempting to reach his foot again with your own playfully. He squirms downward to use his height to his advantage, his giggles getting a little higher pitched as he evades your desperate attempt.

“Is this some kind of weird religious trauma? Jesus liked to wash feet, not touch them together-”

He's shit talking between giggles and now you're giggling too, sliding down the bed to try and reach him once again, your lip pulling between your teeth mischievously as you frantically wave your leg, toes pointed like a ballerina. You pay absolutely zero mind to his protests. So close, so close-

He practically shrieks your name when he feels your toes graze against his skin and the sheer girlieness of the noise has you erupting into genuine, chest rattling laughter, and before you can recover, he's reached over you to hook a large and under your knee, flipping you across his waist with ease so you’re straddling him, genuinely beaming as you try to catch your breath, your hands pressed against his bare chest to support yourself.

After a few moments, the realization sinks in that you’re here, in Choso Kamo’s bed, with no pants on. Straddling him with your knees struggling to even touch the bed underneath, the only thing separating your most private area from the skin of his abdomen being the thin cotton of your bikini cut panties.

His expression softens as he stares at you, lost in the way your lips part and your eyelids get heavy as he brings a hand up to fix pieces of your hair that were out of place, the both of you completely lost in the moment.

“I’m so sorry Choso-” you start, finally attempting to address the elephant in the room.

“Don't be, there's no need” he murmurs as his fingers move from your hair to your jawline, his thumb grazing the soft skin of your cheek tantalizingly slow “I told you, you're not obligated to feel-”.

You're glad he's not dodging the issue, but you can't let him continue that line of thinking for another fucking second. It was killing you, so you cut him off.

“But I do, Cho. I do feel…” You sigh, your eyebrows furrowing as a knot rises in your throat. Why the fuck was this so hard?

And he wasn't making it any easier, the way his hand was trailing from your face to your neck, across your shoulder and down your clavicle like it had a mind of its own. You have to fight not to shudder.

You close your eyes, avoiding his gaze and focus hard on spewing what needed to be said, wanting it out and over as quickly as possible.

“I like you. I liked you the moment I laid eyes on you. I just didn't know how to say it and when I did I didn't mean to. And you looked so pretty and I didn't want to fuck anything up and so I tried to shove it all back in but it was too late and I-”

Words are tumbling out of your mouth quicker than your brain could proofread them, your hands balling into fists as you metaphorically word vomit into the sticky air in front of you, and it's not until you feel Choso shift underneath you that you stop.

He's pushed himself up on his palm, his free hand moving to tangle in your hair and pull your lips to his, a silent way of telling you he understood. This kiss wasn't like earlier, this one was gentle and poised, every little motion of his mouth overly intentional. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and you gladly grant him access, sighing against him as he strokes the inside of your mouth with the grace of a painter intending upon a masterpiece.

Momentarily, he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours and panting slightly, his eyes fluttered shut as he basks in your warmth. The air between you is thick and sweet, a mixture of clean oxygen and your breath swirling together.

You know what he's doing, trying to regain some control over himself. The two of you have talked extensively about your background, he knew you were a virgin. He didn't want to do anything you weren't comfortable with-

“You’ve been holding back this whole time” you let the words tumble out in a whisper, and you smile when he nods, the sweetness of the entire misunderstanding exploding through you.

“I never wanted to force you into anything,” He sighs “God knows you’ve had enough of other people guiding your decisions for you.”.

“Was that a play on words?” you try not to giggle, but he snorts and then you’re both laughing, with him shifting your bodies again so you're fully in his lap, his legs curling underneath you and his arms squeezing you in an almost boyish way, his giggles getting lost in your hair where he buries his face.

***

“I want to have sex with you”

You’re firm and unwavering in your disposition, face stern and hands pointed at your sides. You stand in front of the coffee table where Choso currently has one boot clad foot perched, his long fingers working on weaving the laces around the hooks in a far too intricate pattern.

He stills momentarily, staring at you with a slight blush creeping across an almost unreadable expression before he chuckles, returning to the task at hand.

His reaction causes you to cross your arms across your chest and reiterate “I’m serious. I want to have sex with you.”.

Since your initial miscommunication with him, you’d come to the conclusion that you would simply have to be direct with your wants and needs from him.

He doesn't pause this time, but does lift his head to shoot you a glance, flashing a much softer smile this time. It reminds you of when you first met him.

“I know, I’m sorry. You just said it so officially. I half expected you to be wearing a lapel collar blazer and holding a briefcase. It was cute.” He speaks as he finishes up with the first boot, and then quickly moves onto the next.

He was getting ready for work and looked absolutely scrumptious. His hair was pulled back in his signature buns, little pieces falling forward to frame his face, and his uniform clung to him in all the right ways. He swears he doesn't actually do much as a security guard, but everytime you see him in uniform you can't help but melt a little.

‘Remain strong’ you tell yourself.

“Well maybe if you could take a hint I wouldn't have to present myself like a legal case,” your tone was teasing, but it was true.

Earlier this week you'd crawled in his bed with nothing on but a thong and one of his t-shirts, pulling his arm around you and settling the flesh of your ass firmly against his boxers, innocently “adjusting” your position repeatedly. When his cock was hard enough for you to feel it spearing your thighs you thought you had him hooked, but he simply pressed chaste kisses onto your neck a few times and told you goodnight.

The day before that, you’d met him in his bedroom when he got home fresh out of the shower, nothing but a towel clinging to your frame and pulled him in for a steamy makeout session. It had ended with him offering for you to wear an outfit of his.

Just last night, you’d made sure to pick a movie with a raunchy sex scene, and even though you’d watched his face flush and his breathing falter, he didn't so much as attempt to make a move on you.

He says your name gently as he finishes up with his shoes and rises from the couch, making his way over to you and wrapping his fingers around your jaw, manually forcing you to look up at him.

“I can take a hint just fine, baby.” He coos, his voice dark and smokier than you’d ever heard it, seemingly out of nowhere “It's just that I'm a patient man. I was waiting for you to use your words.”.

You're already putty in his hands, beet red and gripping his uniform desperately as he captures your bottom lip between his, rolling his tongue along the tender flesh before sucking harshly, pulling your lip between his teeth and biting lightly.

It shouldn't be enough to have you dripping onto the soft cloth of your underwear, pushing muffled whimpers against his lips, but here you are anyway.

All too soon, he pulls away, leaving you breathless as he makes circles beneath your ribs with his thumbs.

“Unfortunately, though, my little legal council, I do have to work-”

“Call out.” It sounds like a plea.

He giggles, allowing his forehead to fall against yours just briefly as his shoulders shake with the sound.

“Cho!” You whine, desperate and slightly embarrassed.

“I can't call out horny, my love.” He’s still giggling as he says it “Plus, if it's what you want, that's fine but I’d like to have time to dedicate myself to making you feel good. It's your first time, you deserve that.”

His words soften as he speaks, and he plants another kiss on your lips, muffling your resigned response.

“You gonna be here tonight? When I get home?” He asks, his voice suggestive.

You hadn't been planning on it. It was usually a dice roll, whether you’d end up at your own apartment or his house by the end of the night, but you needed to go home. Your drawer full of clothes here was dwindling and you desperately missed not having to hear Yuuji and Megumi in the other room.

Plus, you worried sometimes that you needed to relax, to give Choso a chance to breathe. He was an introvert, and even though he never seemed to mind your presence you were always worried that you were overstepping boundaries.

“I was planning on it.” You lie, unsure if you were convincing.

“Shame,” he sighs, pecking your nose before heading towards the door, strong hands reaching for his keys hanging on the rack “The boys are gonna be here. I figure you don't want them hearing-”

“No! I mean, yes! I mean, I-” you scramble for words and he turns to watch you fumble desperately to communicate, giggling through pearly white teeth.

“I can be at home. Tonight.” You take a deep breath, feeling like the air was all of a sudden too hot in the room.

The look on his face is one of pure adoration. His eyes drink you in like fresh water in a desert oasis. You’d been taught that God was the only one who could love you unconditionally, the only one who could marvel at the way your soul had been sewn into your body, but there in that moment, you had the thought that Choso Kamo just might be able to as well.

He crosses the room once more, and when you think he's going to kiss you again, push a little harder against the thin bubble of list pooling inside you, he shocks you by wrapping his arms around you instead, pulling you into him and squeezing you tight, like he didn't want to let go.

The hours pass all too quickly. They also drag on like snails on the sidewalk.

You do everything in your power to prepare yourself. By the time you've driven home and shaved every feasible inch of your body, showered like you could never be clean enough, and applied enough lotions and oils for the next seventeen years, you still have four hours until Choso gets off work. Two and a half of those get filled with cleaning, not that your apartment was dirty in the first place, but you vacuum and dust and wash your bedsheets. You consider scrubbing the grout in the kitchen, but decide against it, not wanting to ruin your immaculately washed form with sweat.

Picking out what to wear is another daunting task. You weren't one for expensive and skimpy lingerie sets. You’d never considered the possibility that anyone would be seeing that secondary layer of clothing. Would Choso be disappointed in your plain black cotton panties and a matching black bra? Realistically, no. You knew he thought you looked amazing in anything. But there's still a small part of you that thinks maybe he will be.

In those last few hours, the nerves really settle in with the reality of the situation. You stand in front of your bathroom mirror in your underwear for what feels like an insane amount of time, scrutinizing your body. Every stretch mark, patch of cellulite, scar and wrinkle screams at you. The way your underwear digs into the soft fat of your body makes you sick. You imagine Choso swallowing his disgust to power through it, and flip off the lights to go pull on some shorts and a t-shirt.

And when he texts you to let you know he's on the way, you feel like you may vomit, a mix of excitement and shame flooding your system.

Beneath his notification is one from your mother. She doesn't reach out much these days, and when she does, it's always an attempt to guilt you into returning home. In her mind, it's not too late.

She doesn't know how far you’ve strayed. You're no longer a girl in the middle rows of pews with your blossoming body swallowed in a light pink dress from your neck to your shins. You don't find excitement at the glances you would steal with the choir boy while he sung the good lord's praises.

These days, you drank and smoked and spent your nights in the bed of an unwed man who thought Jesus was no more than a person who once lived. No more or less than himself, or you, for that matter.

The bible verse she's sent you today seems fitting.

1 Corinthians 13:1-13

She used to tell you, when you were tiny, with dirt stained knees and sunburned cheeks, that when you found your husband, you should replace the word “love” with his name. And if you could not recite it and believe it to be true in it’s new form, he simply was not the boy for you.

Choso Kamo is patient, he is kind. He does not envy, he does not boast, he is not proud.

You see him in flashes. How he patiently waited for you to make a move on him. How he was kind enough to bolster you through every step of your new journey. How he was quiet, gentle, humble in his words and his actions. The blush of his cheeks, the warmth of his embrace-

Choso Kamo is not rude, he is not self seeking, he is not easily angered, he keeps no record of wrongs.

He took your misplaced rejection in stride. Never once did he snap at you. In those weeks you’d been separated, he’d drawn into himself. And when you'd showed up on his doorstep with no justification, he'd welcomed you back with open arms, dressed you in his own clothes, held you like a precious gift-

Choso Kamo always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves.

Yuuji had told you one night over a midnight snack about how Choso had immediately cleared out the guest bedroom when their mom had passed. Yuuji, before that point, was old enough and had more than enough money to have lived on his own, but Choso had insisted on him moving in. He’d told you, with a saccharine half smile as he stared into his bowl of cheerios, that he thought that Choso wanted what was left of their family to persevere. It may have been small, torn from years of hardship, but they were gonna make it good. They were gonna be the kind men at the end of the street who neighbors called when they had a flat tire. Their home would be a safe haven, a place to rest when their friends were weary. After that conversation, you’d crawled back into bed with Choso, who was fast asleep, and cried into his shoulder. Your sweet boy, your angel-

Choso Kamo never fails.

That one doesn't count, you decide. It was too unrealistic. But then you rephrase it a little, and it sounds about right:

Choso Kamo’s love never fails.

Yeah, that was more like it.

But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.

For we know in part and we prophesy in part

You send your mother back a message, entirely too brief. You are no longer sure if you believe in god, but what you are certain of is that you are going to live each moment of your life like it's your last. You’re helplessly in love with a man who practices witchcraft and smokes weed more than he breathes air. But you followed her rule, and he fits the standard. You don't want to hear her opinion, and your father, god rest his soul, may be rolling in his grave, but he's probably not burning in hell, because it doesn't exist.

but when perfection comes,

A knock on your door, in an all-too-familiar corny little rhythmic jingle that warms your heart.

the imperfect disappears.

You block your mothers number and toss your phone on the plush surface of your sofa and practically run to the door, throwing it open and then leaping into Choso's arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, burying your face in his neck and drinking in the smell of his cologne.

He's unprepared, stumbling slightly as he catches you, a breathy “Woah, there!” escaping his lips as he steps with you in his arms over the threshold of your apartment.

“What happened to ‘Hello’?” He teases, pressing soft kisses into your hair “-Or ‘Hi, how are you?’.”

All the while he's struggling to kick his shoes off and get the door locked without setting you down, giggling at himself candidly in your ear. Every rattle of his chest only has you pulling him closer, latching onto him impossibly tight. It hurts in the best way possible. You never thought you’d find this, you could be barefoot and pregnant in that choir boy’s kitchen right now. But he was here, and real, and patient, and kind, and hopeful, and trustworthy, and all that stupid shit the pastor used to yap about on Sunday morning.

“What is up with you? You cosplayin’ a boa constrictor or what-? Oh- What's wrong? ”

His tone softened when he pulled back to look at you and saw large tears rolling down your cheeks.

Even now, with a downturned brow and a pout plaguing his features, he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. His hair was down, his face free of any of his typical makeup and his skin baby soft and butter smooth. Beautiful dark eyes traced worried patterns over your face, searching for the cause of your tears. His grip on your thighs tightens, protective.

“If you changed your mind-” He starts, voice low and hushed.

“No.” You cut him off, and plopped your forehead against his, probably a little too hard but he’d be okay. You’d tease him about his thick ass skull later.

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.

You swallowed your fear, your reservation, the silly, petulant notion that Choso held anything in his chest but genuine adoration for you.

“I’m crying because I’m happy. You make me happy.” You murmur, your eyelids slipping closed. You can't bear to look at him when you say it.

“I love you, Choso Kamo. I love you.”

The air freezes, tenses, and you can swear for a moment the world stops turning. You pry your eyes open against your will to look at him, and he's staring at you in awe, worrying his lip between his teeth, and- were there tears welling in his eyes?

“Say it again.” He whispers “Please.”

“I love you-”

He cuts you off, pressing his lips to yours feverishly. It's gentle, but you can tell he's fighting himself, his hands trembling against your thighs with the force he’s using to force himself into taking his time.

Lips and tongues melding as he carried you down the hall, soft whimpers escaping his lips as your fingers twist in his hair, willing him somehow closer than he already was, wanting him to take your body, and maybe your soul, make it his. He could have it, all of you if he wanted, you knew he'd keep it safe.

“Again” He commands as he lays you on your bed, his hands working your shirt off like he couldn't stand the fabric that hid you from him for a second longer.

“I love you, Cho.” You watch as he pushes himself up off the mattress, standing so that he can pull his own shirt off, revealing that tantalizingly hard frame that you’d fantasized about since the first night you met him. He doesn't give you much time to admire the view before his rough palm is sliding along your freshly bare skin from your hip to the side of your neck. His other hand plants on the mattress beside you, holding himself up as he presses his lips to yours again and then allows himself to leave a sloppy trail of wet kisses across your jaw and down your neck. His tongue is hot and desperate, flicking against your skin and leaving cracks of electricity in it's wake.

“Ah, fuck-” the words seem to bubble out of your lips from nowhere as he transitions from licking to sucking, the slightest bit of pain outlining the pleasure. The hand that's been resting against your neck slides down and around your body, and you arch your back so he can undo the clasp of your bra, running your hands along the defined ridges of his back and trying to remember every breath, every touch, every feeling he’s giving you.

How could this be wrong, when his tongue gliding along your collar feels like heaven? How is it that you were reveling in sin if him removing your bra from your chest felt like removing everything that's ever caged you? How was it blasphemy if the way his eyes held contact with yours as he drew stars along your nipple with his tongue felt like worship?

It also felt like hell fire, though, the way there was heat coating every inch of the room, every inch of your body, pooling inside you and sloshing against every flick of his tongue.

Your body knows what you want, even if you don't, and your hands tangle in his hair and push him downwards, urging him to pick up the pace.

He chuckles against your skin, muttering a hushed “So fucking cute-” before kissing your nipple once more and following your silent command, mapping out the skin of your abdomen with his tongue, humming in satisfaction against your skin, his eyes fluttering shut as he leans into the taste.

His hands trace your sides until his thick fingers are hooking under the rim of both your shorts and your underwear, pulling them off in one fell swoop.

And then there you are, naked in front of the most attractive man you’d ever seen. Naked in front of a man who looked like everything you’d ever been warned about, but acted like everything you'd ever been taught was good.

He looked otherworldly, with his hair fluffy and tousled by your fingers. His blush spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, all the way down his chest, and you notice for the first time the tent in the front of his sweats. His eyes scan you, gliding over different parts of your form, looking hazy and far away, almost lost-

One hand moves to part your knees, which had subconsciously moved together to cover yourself, but he doesn't push, instead lifts his eyes to you, smiling softly. Adoringly.

“Can't do anything for you if you don't let me see, babe.”

You nod, slowly, and begin to part your legs, but something about your face makes him falter, moving to grip your knee and stop you.

“What's wrong, y/n? Do we need to stop?” He's stone-serious all of a sudden “We can stop whenever you want. I promise I can wait.”.

Patient. You remind yourself. Choso Kamo is patient.

“N-no!” You find your words, and he relaxes a little, his grip on your knee loosening “I just- What if you don't-”. You feel embarrassment stinging hot on your cheeks.

His brow furrows as he questions you “...Don't what?”.

The words feel like shattered glass sliding out of your throat:

“What if you don't… like what you see?”

His face falls, and for a second he looks genuinely sad, and you think you’ve ruined it. Again. There's a few silent moments where you think he's gonna call it off, help you redress and leave you here to sleep alone. You recall how you felt in those few weeks of not talking to him the first time.

…But he doesn't. His hands reach out for you and you take them, allowing him to pull you into a sitting position while he stands at the edge of the bed, holding your face upwards so that you have to look at him.

“Y/n.” His tone is somewhere between a scold and a plea, a warning and a prayer “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I am lucky to have you.”.

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as you draw a shaky breath “I just-”

“Aht.” He stops you, pressing his lips to your forehead in a sickeningly sweet gesture “Let me show you.”.

He pushes on your shoulder until you lean back on one of your palms, and this time when he parts your legs to hike your knees up on his hips, you allow it.

He grabs your free hand and and turns it over in his own, speaking softly, slowly:

“I love your hands, and how small they feel in mine.” He kisses your knuckles, humming against your skin as he continues “I love it when you wrap your arms around me at night, how soft your skin feels against me.”.

He starts at your wrist, planting kiss after kiss, trailing upwards until he lands in the hollow of your throat.

“I love your voice, love to hear you say my name-”

“Choso-” you whine, the flick of his tongue causing your hips to instinctually rock. His clothed erection grinds against your bare clit and you gasp at the contact. It was unfamiliar, but so so fucking good.

“Mmm, yes, baby. Just like that.” He praises, his voice low and husky, and his hands move to your hips to guide you in grinding against him, the pace slow and rhythmic, tantalizingly slow.

“I love these little love handles,” He's speaking through breathy pants now, index fingers tapping against the skin beneath his hands to point them out “They're so hot, doll. You have no idea. I wanna bite them so bad. And just look how nicely they fit in my hands.”.

He's melting you, you're head tipping back and your mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut as you jolt with every brush of your clit.

“I said look-” he growls, and brings one hand up to the back of your hair, jerking your head forward. Your eyes fly open in surprise at his sudden forwardness, only to be met with the sight of him grinding against you, the front of his sweats absolutely soiled by your wetness- or maybe his precum from the other side. Both? Probably both.

But he was right, if you didn't know any better, you'd think your hips were hand carved to fit into his palms.

“Cho, please, please!” You have no idea what you're begging for, but you need more, the unfamiliar heat building in your stomach becoming damn near unbearable.

He chuckles, not his usual way but something a little lower, huskier, almost taunting, and takes a slight step back. You open your mouth to whine about the loss of contact, but then he's kneeling by the bed, throwing your legs up over his shoulders and you realize- oh fuck .

“I love these little tiger stripes” He's back to his monologue, tracing the stretch marks on your inner thigh with his lips.

“So. Goddamn. Pretty.” His words are punctuated with kisses in between “How many years did it take you to grow them? Hmm? How many good meals and growing pains and jeans sizes are painted here, baby?”.

He's babbling, lost in adoration, and all you can do is gasp and whine and keen as he draws closer and closer to your core. You're overwhelmed, by him, by his words, by his lips. Your insides have been blended up and set on a low simmer, sure to bubble and boil until you're completely caramelized, an entirely different form than when you first started.

He presses a chaste kiss to the hood of your clit, almost innocent, and you tense, your whole body coiled in anticipation as you prop yourself up on you elbows to look at him with blown pupils.

“Can I?” He asks, and before the words are even out you’re nodding eagerly, unable to even form words with the way he's got you wrapped around his metaphorical finger.

Tentatively, almost experimentally, he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, smirking as your back arches into the feeling. It was unlike anything you'd ever experienced, it was indescribably good. Your hands find his hair faster than you can stop them, instinct taking over as you push him down into you by way of gripping his hair, your body aching, pleading for him to do it again.

And he happily obliges, his fingers digging into your hips to hold you down so he can work his magic, and holy hell did it feel like magic. If your brain wasn't absolutely melted, you’d thank him for suggesting your apartment instead of his house. The sounds that we're escaping you were loud and high pitched, broken syllables of his name intermingled with cursing as he draws figure eights on your clit with his tongue, gradually picking up pace until you're tossing your upper half back onto the mattress, feeling like he was pulling your very soul from your body in the best way.

“Want my fingers inside you, love?” He pulls away, just briefly, back to kissing your thigh languidly as he waits for you to sober a bit and give him proper consent.

“Yes, yes, yes-” You're helpless against him, trying to roll your hips back up to his face, only to be met with the pressure of his hand against your hip, holding you in place. You’d let him do whatever he wanted.

“Okay, okay!” He giggles, and this time it sounds genuine “Relax for me, pretty girl, it shouldn't hurt but if you're tense…”.

He trails off, pressing a kiss to your other thigh as you settle yourself, laying back with your eyes closed and taking deep, slow breaths while trying not to tremble.

You feel his tongue again first and immediately jolt, and he mumbles your name almost disappointedly, like he expected you to tense again the second he touched you. You mumble an apology, trying again to relax, focusing on the way his tongue felt working your body.

It doesn't take long for the heat to return, soft whine's escaping your lips as you let him take control, loving the way he groans against you, like getting you off was a pleasure. With each stroke an unknown feeling was building in your core, a live wire winding tighter and tighter and-

You gasp as you feel a sudden pressure, his finger pushing into you slowly, carefully, pumping in time with his tongue, working you from the inside and out.

You're back up on your palm now, your free hand reaching for his, tangling your fingers in his, squeezing as your face falls into an opened mouthed silent moan. He hesitates, just briefly, and the panic at the idea of losing the feeling helps you find your words:

“Nonononono, don't stop, Choso, baby, please- please don't stop it's so good, please- please!”

His eyes crinkle at the corners, smirking against you. You didn't give a fuck. Let his ego inflate until it bursts. Let him think he owns your body, because goddamn, you’d let him. You wanted him to. Anything, anything so long as he didn't stop.

Without warning, he slips another finger in and the stretch along with the swirl of his tongue is unreal. You cry out, squeezing his fingers impossibly tight and doubling over just slightly. He's hitting something inside you that you didn't know existed, some type of magical button that had that coil in you wound so tight you feared it might break. And then you feel it, a sharp and hot sensation, brought on so suddenly it had your eyes flying open and sent you scrambling backwards away from him.

“Stop!” You bark, and immediately he pulls out of and away from you, but keeps your fingers intertwined with his, his face crunched in concern.

“You okay?” He asks, genuine worry plaguing his very being “Something hurt?”.

“Yeah, no, it felt good, I just- I felt-” You struggle to describe it, searching for a similar sensation in your mind to compare it to.

While you think, he presses small kisses to your knee, his eyes not as concerned as they were a moment ago, but still cloudy.

“I think I have to pee?” You finally state, but it comes out as more of a question than a matter of fact.

His eyebrows jolt upwards as he breaks into a wide open mouthed grin, and then he laughs in that way that makes you melt, in the way that makes his nose crinkle up and his eyes look like crescent moons.

“Baby!” He cackles incredulously, rising to his feet and placing himself up on the bed, his shoulders resting against the pillows.

“What?” You whine, mildly embarrassed, but take his hands when he reaches for you, letting him guide you until your straddling his hips, shuddering as you feel his still-hard cock spearing your ass.

“You were gonna cum, that's what that was.” He chuckles, pulling you forward to kiss him. You can taste yourself all over him and it lights you on fire.

Choso, smiling, giggling, rock hard beneath you, swirling his tongue around yours when you find yourself smiling too.

Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

“Cho?” you murmur against him, and he hums inquisitively back against your lips.

“Make love to me. Please. Need you close.”

“Yes ma'am. At your service.”

In a few moments, you're on your back in front of him, your thighs spread around his own, watching him roll a latex condom over his length. An artist couldn't paint a view as beautiful as the one in front of you.

Fully protected, he leans down over you, and before he can move to do it himself you’re lapping hungrily at his bottom lip, willing him closer, wanting him to invade your every inch, stake his claim in you.

He hikes one of your legs up with his hand under your knee and you feel him nudge against your entrance, and you surprise yourself with your own feelings. There's no fear, no shame, just love and want.

“You sure?”

“Choso!” You fuss, and he giggles, planting a sweet kiss on your forehead and then resting his own head there, nuzzling you gently. Anyone else, it would be gross; both of you had a sheen of sweat glistening across your foreheads.

“Deep breath for me, sweet girl.” He murmurs, and you do, drawing a heavy lungful of his breath and the hot air surrounding the two of you. At the peak of your intake, he pushes into you, slow and careful, stretching you around him with the patience of a teacher and the intensity of a priest in the height of surmon.

It was all-consuming, the absolutely delectable way he fit inside you, his tip grazing your cervix just ever-so-slightly. Maybe it was the way he’d brought you to the brink of cumming (apparently) before, or just the way your body craved him like water, but he was right; it didn't hurt. Pressure, sure, but not pain.

“Gonna move-” He speaks, and you realize you’re affecting him too. His brow is knitted, bottom lip trembling between his teeth, voice cracked and whiney.

“Please, Cho?” You whimper out, sliding one hand around his back, the other intertwined in his dark hair, now damp from desperate sweat.

He presses his lips to yours and begins to rock his hips, slowly at first, until he hits that sweet spot inside you again, earning him a puppy whine from what felt like the deepest part of your guts. From there, he's zeroed in on that spot, rolling his hips in a way that has him grinding against it over and over.

Each stroke pushes you closer to the brink of enlightenment, you think, modulates your very being with the way that heat is rising inside you again. He moans and whines and whimpers against the crook of your neck as he works, giving away just how much you’re really doing to him, whether he wanted you to know or not.

It makes you smile through the pleasure, and if any sounds could escape you other than moans you may have giggled. He was so fucking cute.

The pressure inside you intensifies, builds until every stroke is crashing over your body in boiling waves, and you feel that hot sensation again as he picks up pace, your pussy twitching around him desperately and your thighs tightening around his back, warning him you were close.

“Say it again for me, baby. Please?” He pants, propping up to watch your face as you inevitably would come undone beneath him.

One of his hands reaches down to circle your clit as you cry out.

“I love you. I-I love you, Chos- nngh, fuck! ”

You cum, for the first time in your life, and it feels like you’ve stepped off the edge of a cliff, adrenaline and excitement exploding from your core. Against your own will, your head flies backwards into the pillow behind you and your body clenches from your scalp to your toes as you ride out your high.

A curse, followed by a keen from Choso as he’s quick to follow behind you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and slow as he pumps hot ropes of cum into the condom.

He presses into you, resting his body weight against you as the both of you take a moment to catch your breath. It's crushing, his weight, but you couldn't think of a better way to go, so you let him. As you regain some semblance of control over your body, your fingers find their way to his back, swirling along the defined muscle in languid motions.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

“Oh,” He says after a moment, casually, like he'd forgotten to tell you some half hearted plans “I love you too, by the way.”.

You giggle, and jerk his face up to look at you, your hands pressing into his cheeks and puckering up his kiss-bitten lips.

“You are an idiot, Choso Kamo.”

masterlist

#jjk #choso x reader #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso smut #kamo choso #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #cross posted on ao3 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk smut

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anilyan · 2 months

Text

Venti is Phanes + on Istaroth and the Primordial One

Not so crack theory: Venti is Phanes and is the androgynous being born from the Chymical Marriage between the Primordial One and Istaroth, before she was betrayed by the Sinners

(I posted this before but now it's properly explained)

I am using this lore in my old mondstadt fic, Nameless (actually soon to turn into trilogy, since vol 2 is about venti rewinding time and vol 3 is present time story and I took so long to plan all the lore with all the canon crumbs and theories we had...)

Yes, a lot of the info about gods is pulled from wikipedia, I’m not being paid to research more, okay? I just want to feed the brainrot. My main sources besides those are the videos listed at the end.

I would love if this theory made its way to some big lore content creator for them to analyse and criticize, because I have been rotating this in my head but I don’t have their capacity or knowledge to tear this apart.

NOTES:

This post contain minimal mentions of 2 leaks, about the rest of the collection of The Pale Princess and the Six Pygmies, and a sus minimal old leak about Venti

This post contains some references to the Penacony arc from Honkai star rail, but no knowledge about the game is required and in fact, I don't even play it myself and those are just sus parallels

0. Summary / main points

Istaroth and the Primordial One parallel Chronos (personification of time) and Ananke (most powerful dictator of Fate and mother of The Fates/Moirai), respectively.

Chronos and Ananke laid down the cosmic / orphic world that created/reshaped the world. In a way, that was an Alchemical Marriage, that also gave birth to the androgynous winged being Phanes/Venti, and to the Abyss,

Venti has many ties to fate, including extensive apple symbology visible even in wisp form. The apples, besides being a symbol of fate, also represent a dream bubble in accordance to the structure of Teyvat. Quoting his most sus birthday art, “It is written that there is a whole tiny world hidden inside an apple core”

Venti has at least some control over 1 half of Teyvat while the other half is ruled by The Night Mother/Nyx. He also offers us half of the apple in the mentioned birthday art.

Ananke was a serpent-like being, and we see a Black Serpent 1) coiled around Phanes 2) coiled around the pearl/cosmic egg in the Gnostic Chorus 3) in the Black Serpent Knights, who also had Ishtar/Istaroth’s star as a symbol 4) In Nibelung, if we consider serpents and dragons the same

Istaroth supported Khaenri’ah (thus why the Nation had her symbol) and both opposed the Heavenly Principles/Celestia, until she was betrayed by the Sinners/6 Pygmies and forgotten

The Primordial One was opposed by Celestia. We also know that Nibelung fought Celestia. They were either allies or even the same being (a black serpent), and their perceived opposition is not too different from how Remus went down misinterpreted by history

1. About the Primordial One

In case it’s not yet clear, this assumes that Phanes =/= Primordial One. After all, the book Before the Sun and Moon simply says that “The Primordial One may have been Phanes*”,* and the fandom just started equating the two.

I am of the opinion that the Primordial One and Celestia are in opposition, while Istaroth is on the side of the Primordial One, or at least opposed to Celestia too. Maybe the Alchemical Marriage was part of a plan of theirs. Read more about it in section 3.

And if the truth about Remuria taught us anything, is that some rivalries depicted in history are false. In the same way Remus went down as a Tyrant when in reality he never wanted to employ force and was even allied with Sybilla (a vishap), I would say that the Primordial One and Nibelung/dragons/vishaps probably found ways to coexist. We do know that Nibelung went to war against the Heavenly Principles/Celestia, but if Celestia and Primordial One opposed each other, that just makes an alliance between PO and the Dragon King more likely.

We don’t know if Primordial One = 1st Descender and Celestia = 2nd Descender, so I will avoid using those terms throughout the post. But if the 2nd who came = 2nd Descender = Celestia, then that would lend further credibility to the idea that Celestia and the PO are on opposing sides, since the 2nd who came basically stole PO’s ruling of Teyvat.

2. About Istaroth AND Khaenri’ah

Like I said above, I believe that Istaroth sides with the Primordial One and that both are in opposition to Celestia

Istaroth has the ability to create alt Looms of Fate through those seeds she gives away - those basically grow into trees that are databases of history outside the control of Celestia. I had already affirmed this for my fic before we got the 2nd Caribert quest, but at this point is practically confirmed.

Istaroth is based on Astaroth and Ishtar, and Ishtar’s morning star is an 8-pointed star just like the symbol of Khaenri’ah. And so the Black Serpent Nights probably served Istaroth in some way.

Khaenri’ah supposedly didn’t have a god, but let’s keep in mind Istaroth was forgotten by time. It’s also possible that, even if Khaenri’ah had a god, they still considered themselves the pride of humankind since Istaroth likely wasn’t associated with Celestia, as I mentioned

Speaking of Black Serpents, other prevalent Black serpents are the one in the Gnostic Chorus, and Nibelung, in a way (not sure if they are or not the same entity). So I would say that Nibelung is/was also allied with Khaenri’ah/Istaroth/Primordial One. Please refer to the section above for an explanation.

The 6 Pygmies and the Pale Princess is a book that is an allegory for the 5 Sinners of Khaenri’ah + Dainsleif and Istaroth. I include, at the end, a video that explains that properly and is very much worth the watch. From there (or at least, from the leaked volumes), we know that the Sinners basically betrayed Istaroth, which might explain why she ended up being forgotten and why Dainsleif is the only Pygmie that didn’t go fully down the Sinner’s path.

3. The relationship between the Primordial One and Istaroth

Like I say above, many things point to them being allied. At the very least, we can quite safely infer they both opposed Celestia/The Heavenly Principles and in turn allied with Khaenri’ah.

The cosmic/ orphic/world egg was created by Chronos (personification of time) and Ananke (most powerful dictator of Fate and mother of The Fates/Moirai). “Ananke and Chronos are mates, mingling together in serpent form as a tie around the universe. Together, they have crushed the primal egg of creation of which constituent parts became earth, heaven and sea to form the ordered universe.”

Ananke and Chronos have to be the PO and Istaroth - which one is which is a bit debatable, with their genders being a counterargument on its own. But I would say Chronos is Istaroth (due to her associations with time, although she is more a god of moments than of time) while Ananke is the Primordial One (who had the 3 moon sisters/moirai as shades + is probably the Dreamer/HSR’s SUNday parallel who plays the symphony that creates the fates reflected by the moons (read more in next section)).

The cosmic egg that birthed the world, together with the Abyss AND Venti, probably resulted from their Alchemical Marriage. I wouldn’t be too surprised if it was also the Gnostic Pearl depicted in the Gnostic Chorus cutscene, or even if the Black Serpent there was Ananke/Primordial One. In fact, that would only solidify the connections with the Black Serpent Knights and them wearing Istaroth’s symbol. And it would be extra funny if somehow the Primordial One and Nibelung were the same entity (since I already explained why I think they were are least on the same side)… and therefore were a black serpent/dragon.

Okay, but what is an Alchemical/Chymical Marriage? It’s a marriage between a Red King and a White Queen, the Sun and the Moon, gold and silver, sulphur and mercury. It’s sometimes pointed as the source of the Philosophers' Stone, and from that union of opposites is birthed an androgynous being. Btw, that marriage is facilitated by a dove, but this is off-topic and you can see why that is interesting in the last video linked. It’s also a process that sometimes involves ‘fermentation”, which is also off-topic but ties well with the wine-making process and other things mentioned in the last video too.

According to Jakob: "The Seal of Chymical Marriage was an ancient Fontainian ritual meant to seal off the source of life. Now it has been reversed, and all has been set free once more!" So, it can be used to separate the Primordial Sea from the world, which sounds similar to creating a world/pearl/philosopher’s stone/egg/dream bubble that floats in the sea of quanta or wtv is the logic used across Hoyoverse’s worlds. We confirm again this was necessary to create Teyvat's egg, and that the Primordial One couldn’t do it alone because two people are required for a marriage.

And do you know what Marriages also require? A ring. Who was escaping with a golden ring, that is an important figure of Khaenri’ah and the only Pygmy who didn’t act like the others/didn’t become a Sinner? Dainsleif, whose constellation is even a Serpent ring. May I point to the Das Rheinegold music drama, that is part of the series The Ring of Nibelung, and maybe use that as extra merit to associate the Primordial One with Nibelung?

4. About the world of Teyvat

Dragons = Vishaps = Sea slugs = Bees = Seelies. Yes. We already know that the the dragons and seelies in Genshin are based on irl sea slugs, I won’t elaborate on that. As for Bees, that is because we have seelie-like bees in Remuria, connected to the prophet Golden-Bee Sybilla (don’t mistake Sybilla with Sylla, who is a Dragon King, although I guess this is all the same family)

Teyvat is theoretically 2 worlds/halves, the version we know and the mirror world, that is probably the Abyss. Or maybe all of it is a mirror world, idk. We can even see similar world structures in Honkai Star Rail, especially in Penacony, where the world there is literally mirrored and a dream too. Some people say Teyvat is divided in 3 parts: the Light Realm, Void Realm, and the Human Realm. But I think the Pimordial One just transformed the Light Realm into the Human Realm, so there are still 2 parts only, and we know they can overlap anyway.

Cycle: People die » are absorbed by the roots » are supposed to travel to the top of the world tree (inverted, so top is in abyss) to become Irminsul fruit / stars » said stars form constellations that determine people's fate, or more accurately, since they are all in a dream, are data that allows the tree to predict their fates » it’s because people exist as stars that their fates and presence can be summoned in the form of shooting stars

Dainsleif confirmed that the leylines can be woven to determine Fate / have their records changed. The Loom used to weave them is a Symphony, or in other words, Remus’ Symphony of Fate is very similar or the same thing as a Loom of Fate, although maybe not at the same scale. It’s possible that other God-Kings also attempted to create their own Looms of Fate.

Add to that some Penacony’s parallels, and you can infer that the Symphony is controlled in a floating palace, that is actually a Grande Theater, by the Sun(day) (potentially Phanes or the Primordial One, basically the one who Dreams), and it’s reflected by the moons (Aria, Sonnet and Canon, so the musical associations are fitting). Considering that the 3 moon sisters are also probably the mythological Moirai who weave Fate, yeah, that tracks.

5. Finally, about Venti

Addressing the Venti is/isn’t the weakest Archon debate: Idk and I don’t quite care, because regardless of how much power he holds now, this theory is about his origins and role more than anything.

Venti is the one narrating the Gnostic Chorus cutscene, so clearly he knows about the origins of Teyvat and other important stuff. Yes, it can just be because of his ties to Istaroth who had the winds of time and bla bla, but I would say he has a bigger involvement.

In the Gnostic Chorus, there is a Black serpent, and I already mentioned how it ties with Khaenri’ah and Istaroth in the second section. Well, Phanes is a figure that has a serpent coiled around him too, Ananke, to be more precise.

Phanes was believed to have hatched from the egg of Chronos and Ananke (Istaroth and PO, section 3), OR Nyx in the form of a black bird and wind, OR from the cosmic /orphic egg placed in and hatched from Aether, who was the personification of the bright upper sky and another son of Chronos. Regardless, it seems like the egg birthed both Phanes AND the world?

Phanes is described sometimes as male, sometimes as androgynous. I don’t need to explain how that fits Venti. The androgynous part also fits with how a being born from an Alchemical Marriage should be androgynous due to being an union of opposites.

Phanes is also described has having wings and a crown. We are yet to see a crown, but at least the angel wings are there.

Some myths say that Phanes was Dionysus (god of wine… amongst other things), or Eros (god of love, yes I’m simplifying), and oh boy isn’t Venti the god of all of that too? Although this is complicated since it has to do with gods being iterations of past gods and such, you can read more about it here

In a certain play, after Phanes mates with Chaos, he creates flying creatures. It would also fit Venti well, especially given that tale from Amber’s Quest where he taught birds how to fly.

Okay, this gets less obvious now. Phanes is a first-born deity who emerged from the abyss and gave birth to the universe, and is a god of creation, light and goodness. The Abyss part is extra intriguing because the world has an abyss half, and some in-game books even compare wine with the Abyss, and also with the idea that drinking the abyss/wine is a way to acquire Forbidden Knowledge. Please, check the last video I link.

Phanes counterpart is Nyx (Night). In some tales she is Phane’s wife, sometimes his daughter, and in others she creates an egg from which Phanes is born, so wtv. I don’t know who Nyx is (besides being clearly The Night Mother from the book of the Six Pygmies), but it’s pretty clear that the Abyss half is under her responsibility in some way.

Oh, right, this was a sus leak that broke my mind months ago and seemed completely nonsensical, but since I started cooking this theory, I can’t help but look back at it. It claimed that Venti was the guide of the Primordial One. Humm… yeah, if Venti was part of a plan between Istaroth and PO, I can see that, although I don’t know what the goal could be. Maybe he is assuming Istaroth’s role now that she is gone in supporting the PO?

This is a very wild guess, but I really thing Venti has something to do with the Gnostic Pearl. Idk if that pearl is the same one that hatched the world, or something that holds the world together (think Mikha from HSR), but I can imagine him having some responsibility over taking care of it.

And if you think Venti holding Fate in his hands is a stretch… let’s talk about Apples. Especially in anime, Apples are often depicted as the fruit of Fate (look no further than Mawaru Penguindrum), and in Inazuma, the girl giving Fortune Slips is called Gendou Ringo, with Ringo meaning ‘apple’ in Japanese. Well… Mondstadt is a land full of apple trees, Venti loves apple cider and is often asking for apples to pay for his performances, is being given an apple in archon form in one of his birthday arts, created the Golden-Apple Archipelago, and even the top of his head in wisp form resembles an apple stem. Seriously, I go crazy with how many people never noticed that. This is too much in our face to not be relevant.

This sounds like a stretch, but apples are round and so the shape is not too different from a dream bubble. And do you know what the birthday art I mentioned had in the caption? “It is written that there is a whole tiny world hidden inside an apple core. Here, this half is for you. Let's take a stroll in the tiny little world. But remember to keep it a secret because... you're the only one I want to bring there.” If he isn’t holding Fate or a world in some way, then I don’t know what this is supposed to mean.

You know how I said that Teyvat is divided into 2 halves? That also connects well with his quote (when he gives us half of the apple/world), and with the idea that Phanes is the day while Nyx is the night. So maybe Venti is responsible for the half of Teyvat that we know/he gave us while Nyx is responsible for the Abyss side.

So… is there any proof that Venti is Phanes? No. Are there many many sus elements about him and connections with the things I listed? Yes. I could see the Traveler being Phanes and being entrusted the Light/Human half of Teyvat by Venti as a scenario just as likely, especially if The Abyss sibling ends up being/becoming Nyx, but I like this version more xD

But even if the main theory ends up being wrong, I hope people you got some things to think about.

Some videos for extra lore, more a less in order of relevance

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZIR-tfzfd4 » Reinterpretation of all volumes of the Six Pygmies and the Pale Princess in light of finding out about the 5 Sinners of Khaenri’ah + Dain + connections of Istaroth with Khaenri’ah

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zK3xYKtUniQ » More about the connections between Istaroth and Khaenri’ah

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePjY4c0Rj0k » Elaborates on how a Loom of Fate is basically another database, as opposed to the Irminsul, and mentios how Istaroth can could create several Looms of Fate

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAm9uElsKd4 » Parallels with the Penacony arc from Honkai Start Rail and list of evidences that Teyvat is a Dream bubble

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vhST-fz6Yps » Video is from before we learned about the 5 Sinners, and I’m not fully sold on the chronology, but I still think it does a good job at elaborating n the serpent thing from the gnostic chorus and other things we can infer about genshin thanks to parallels to Penacony

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHCv8KFdL6M&t=1045s » Ties sacramental bread and blood with wine and the way wisdom/abilities can be passed down thrown ingesting parts of gods, and the concept of fairy rings and The Ring of Nibelung, with the concept of a Chemical Marriage.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin theory #theory #genshin lore #istaroth #primordial one #venti #barbatos #genshin venti #genshin istaroth #gnosticism #nibelung #teyvat #penacony #remuria #phanes #khaenri'ah

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diabolicalacid · 3 months

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birds of a feather — no one gets me like you

september 30, 7:27 PM :

location— tokyo convention center

to be honest, you’re nervous. like, really really really nervous. in this moment, you can go as far as considering yourself as good as dead as a result of your timorous nerves. the way you see it, the solution to every minor inconvenience is to give up. no matter how unfortunate it sounds, your brain cannot warrant itself to think otherwise.

for instance, right now, while you’re standing at the stall designated for you, waiting for customers to drop by and scan through some of your finest artwork, it feels as though the blood in your veins is being constantly poisoned by anxiety and nervousness. so much so, you’d rather leave.

anxiety regarding the probability that none of your work will sell. you don’t exactly have a winning streak when it comes to success in terms of business. and nervousness, just because it’s an adjunct to anxiety. an age old combination.

you can feel your core shaking. you can feel a pit take shape in your stomach, and then, it lunges deeper, pressing you down further. and repeat. you feel lightheaded like you’re about to pass out on the ground any given moment. you feel like you hear the concrete beneath your feet cracking into a void to take you whole.

it’s unbearable, and the noise of the crowd is making it a hundred times worse. you feel your head spinning, as though you’re about to lose your footing. your body lunges itself into the chair, and for a moment, your vision turns blurry and black.

“are you okay miss?” a concerned voice asks, you feel a hand resting on your shoulder.

you take a deep breath and rub your eyes, relieved you can experience your surroundings again. you nod, reassuring the worried stranger, “yes, i’m fine.”

“thank you for checking up on me.” you offer him a kind smile, and the stranger, relieved that you don’t require medical assistance, leaves.

you support yourself as you get off the chair, and take a look at your cellphone to check on the time, and to check if tobio has left. it’s twenty nine minutes past seven, and there is no message from your best friend yet.

it’s been barely twenty minutes since the exhibition commenced, seventeen if you’re being exact, but you can testify if asked, it already feels like an eternity has since passed over you.

it’s been seventeen minutes since the exhibition began and seventeen minutes since your stall has been a deserted land. the pretty lady governing the stall right across your own has already sold six paintings, and the shabby guy next to you, promising his customers ‘true modern art’, has somehow managed to pass on eight of his pieces. you wonder what kind of charisma one needs to have for that.

as for you? you’ve sold zero.

you think it’s embarrassing you’re still here, standing tall with a plastic smile etched onto your face because it has more chances of selling than the frown you’re willing to put on otherwise.

you should probably leave.

you want to give yourself a fair chance, something you always stray away from because you think your undeserving, stay a little while longer and see if this ordeal works out. you’re sure you’ll end up selling at least one painting out of the fourteen on exhibit. but the fact that you’re the cheapest stall at the convention tonight (and that’s on your inexperience, as if that’s relevant in this field to begin with) and you still haven’t managed to sell a single piece should tell you enough.

you’re in two minds about this. whether to stay or whether to leave, that is the question. for you, it’d be easier to make an exit instead of dragging through to night and suffering in case an unfavourable outcome results.

if it weren’t for tobio compelling you to take this chance, and you quote, for your own well being, for you to feel motivated about yourself and your work, you wouldn’t be here in this stitch to begin with, and the malicious thoughts waging a war whether to expectorate yourself from the venue or to stay wouldn’t be plaguing your mind either.

but honestly, you would’ve much preferred staying back and sulking around your dorm room.

damn you tobio kageyama. and damn that charm you slip on.

•

september 27, 6:33 PM :

location— tobio’s living room

tobio yawns, maffling, “you should do it.”

he ruffles your hair, mumbling while he’s engrossed in the movie playing across the two of you, “you’re so talented, you deserve this chance.”

you don’t hear what he has to say. he isn’t very clear. you shift in position and drag your body closer to him, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“what was that?” you whisper, ordering tobio to pardon his words, unwilling to interrupt the characters on screen by raising your voice.

he snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you in further, and rests his chin on your head. he repeats, his hands finding themselves pinching your cheeks, “you should do it.”

“you deserve this chance.” he makes the statement in a firm tone, marking up his volume, leaving you no room to debate.

you swat his hands off your cheeks and turn in position to face him instead of the television screen. you reach out to grab the remote control resting in his lap. you hum as you turn off the television, “hmm, maybe.”

enveloping your arms around his neck, you bring your lips closer to his cheeks, speaking in an undertone, “give me one good reason i should take this chance.”

“you know me.” you begin, sighing, burying your head into his shoulder, “i’m not meant for grand things like this.”

“you always underestimate yourself.” tobio complains, pulling your ear, and scolds you, “you need to apologise to my best friend for making her feel so small all the time.”

“you devil.” he scoffs and you slap his bicep. a small smile takes shape on your face, but he doesn’t witness it because your head is still buried into his shoulder.

his lips part into a smile as he speaks, “she’s really the most amazing person i know, and you’re out here belittling her.”

he sighs, “you’re an idiot, yn.”

“but i love you.”

you raise your head to place a chaste kiss on cheek, chirping as you comb your fingers through his hair, “you’re the best.”

“i love you a little more than i love yachan and sho.” you tease him, and that warrants a chuckle from his end.

you mumble, tightening your hold of him, “no one gets me like you.”

“i know that.” tobio agrees, placing his arms around you, pulling you closer until you’re positioned on his lap.

he says to you, rubbing your back, “which is exactly why i think you should take this chance.”

“since i know you, i know you’re meant for this.” he reassures you, pushing you off his lap playfully, and you land on the ground.

though you’re unhurt, you scrunch your face, grovelling, “that was mean.”

“i know.” he smirks, getting off the couch and holds out a hand for you to take support of.

you raise yourself from the ground. well, for most part, tobio pulls you up. he puts his arms on your shoulders, bringing his face close to your ear, murmering, “now, let’s get you some ramen.”

“the only men who will never disappoint me.” you make a joke, chuckling as you crane your neck to look back at him for his response. he sighs, nodding his head in disapproval.

you quickly rephrase, “the only men who will never disappoint me, other than you.”

“better.” tobio shakes his head, allowing himself to chuckle at your quick correction.

he pushes you onwards onto the path that leads to the kitchen. you stop in your tracks in the passageway, making him stumble and almost trip over you.

you nod your head in assent, claiming, “you know what, maybe i should take the chance.”

you continue marching on the path to the kitchen, and tobio nods in agreement with you, gently smiling as he glances at you from the corner of his eye, “yes, you should.”

•

september 30, 7:39 PM :

location— tokyo convention centre

you weren’t made for an event like this. this fact, if you weren’t sure of then, you’re sure of now. hiding behind a screen, hoping to sell a part of your artwork you think your customer base will find interesting, is a different thing, and attempting to do so in public is proving to be a completely different task altogether.

for most part, it’s embarrassing. the spectacle of people selling their pieces one after the other, and on the contrary, the spectacle of yourself waiting on a single person to show interest in your work, can be deemed nothing less than one of your most embarrassing encounters.

to watch hours and hours of your work straight up ignored is painful. but the fact that you’re basing your worth off strangers’ opinion is even more concerning. you think to yourself, but you’ve always been like this. you’ve always needed validation and you’ve always tried to seek validation in the darkest depths. you are no stranger to your desperation.

and so, staying longer at the place where you’re receiving not a single ounce of validation from strangers you’ll probably never run into again, is proving to be detrimental to your mental state. with every moment that passes and with every breathing body that walks by your stall without expressing a hint of interest, you can feel yourself slipping somewhere you know you’ll be difficult to rescue from.

but you have tobio, and he’s quite skilled when it comes to the subject of you. although you never openly ask him to be there for you, he always ends up present for you whenever he knows you’ll be in need of him. he knows you inside out, and there is no one else who gets you quite like he does.

because he recognises you like the back of his hand, you need him right now. with every second that ticks off, with every warm body that passes by you, neglecting your effort, and as you find yourself slipping somewhere you’ll be difficult to rescue from, you need him. solely because if you do end up in the chilling depths of despair, he’ll be right there to pull you out into the open, where you should be.

except, tobio isn’t here. he did promise he’ll show up by seven, but it’s half past seven and he isn’t here. you’re well versed with his schedule, and you’re aware he’s probably caught up with practice or receiving an earful from his captain or his coach. you’re also aware he’ll show up sooner or later, he’s not one to betray your trust. but despite knowing what you clearly do, you still find yourself beginning to doubt him.

the state of your mind is plenty disheveled, and you cannot make out exactly what it is that you’re thinking. you cannot gauge if you’re thinking appropriate thoughts, or vacuous, inappropriate ones. you’re unable to comprehend as to why your brain is criminalising possibly the only person in the world you’d trust the entirety of your being with.

it’s so stupid, you think. it’s so so stupid that you took this chance, you should’ve known it wasn’t for you. you weren’t for it. you should’ve known you were a match made in hell. it’s so so stupid that you made an effort to rummage through your artwork and select some of your best work and get it framed.

it’s so so so stupid that you laid your trust in tobio’s words. you know in any case he’s not to blame. you’re the one who took the final leap. but you still find yourself seething at him as you watch an even greater number of people walking past your stall with no intention of paying your art or yourself any heed.

once the time rolls to half past eight, you decide it’s best to leave. with the burden of failure that you weren’t successful in selling a single piece, and the grief of betrayal because tobio never showed up to the occasion, you collect all your paintings, stuff them in the same gigantic suitcase they were brought here inside of, and bolt out of the venue.

tobio shows up at the venue fifty nine minutes past eight, an hour later than he was supposed to. he knows you must be waiting, and excited to see the progress you’ve made, he jogs around in an attempt to locate your stall.

he finally spots it, but he’s greeted by an empty stall. he double checks if it’s the one he’s supposed to be at. maybe he read the numbers wrong. but upon further inspection, he discovers, he’s in fact at the right spot.

he asks around the other stalls, but no one has any clue regarding your whereabouts. finally, he receives a vague answer when he consults the pretty lady at the stall right across yours, who tells him you left the centre only minutes ago. this leaves him confused as well as worried. his instant response is to pull out his cellphone and dial your number.

he’s met by a pre recorded message telling him you’ve shut off your cellphone. tobio quickly takes a run around the whole centre, hoping he’ll come across you checking out somebody else’s artwork. but with so many people around and barely any space to set one’s feet on, his trial fails miserably.

when he returns to your stall, his view is a woman and her partner critiquing one of your paintings, the one that never made it into the suitcase you left with.

with no other choice at his dispense, but to initiate a conversation, he asks the couple, “how can i help you?”

“oh hey, are you the owner of the stall?” the lady enquires, turning around, all smiles as she bows to greet him.

tobio bows to her, informing, “no, but my best friend is.”

“it seems she left earlier than scheduled.” the lady surmises, pursing her lips, sighing in defeat.

“i was really hoping to buy this piece.” she admits, placing it on the chair, admiring the painting, “it reminds me of the flowers he gave me on our first date.”

tobio is impulsive, and he blurts out, “in that case, i’ll make the sell.”

“oh, that would be wonderful.” the lady’s mouth widens into a satisfying smile as she reaches into her tote for her wallet in order to pay tobio.

she greets him before the couple leaves the stall, “thank you so much, kind sir.”

“thank you as well.” tobio responds, bowing to her.

with no sign of you around, he knows you’ve probably returned to your dorm room. he isn’t sure why you left prematurely, but whatever the cause, he needs to get to you. there’s one thing he’s positive about, it’s not good.

with that, he’s forced to leave with ample amount of grief adapting itself into his bones. if only his phone hadn’t run out of battery, he’d have been able to inform you that he would be running late. if only he’d have left sooner, instead of patronising hirugami san’s rant about his overworked muscles, he’d have been able to help you through whatever went gone wrong at the event. if only he’d arrived five minutes earlier, he’d have had the chance to run into you. if only, this. if only, that.

however, he knows there’s no point pondering over the ‘what ifs’. what he does take from the situation at hand is that something must’ve gone terribly wrong for you to escape in midst of the event, and you probably need him right now.

he has no time to waste. he must take his leave.

knowing you’re probably in a tough spot right now, his only response to rush towards his car and drive to your dorms.

౨ৎ every time tobio gets caught, yn has to request the resident assistant to excuse them, and it has happened one too many times.

౨ৎ the painting in yn’s post was actually made by my fiancé’s younger sister. i asked her if i can use it for the smau and she was kind enough to say yes.

౨ৎ yn thought it was creepy that her professor texted her.

౨ৎ yn gets anxious and self detrimental quite easily.

౨ৎ tobio always has a power bank on him, but hoshiumi exhausted its charge on this fine day.

previous : divine intervention

masterlist | next : collateral damage

🐰 tobio is so sweet!

taglist— @wolffmaiden @kafkassexchoe @luna-mothii @bomjug @le000xxgrd @dazqa @ineednanami @iluvaquaphor @debussy42 @choizzn @bunninio @empress-pug-pug @karasunoya @sereniteav @yuminako

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slitheringghost · 3 months

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"And Cain Repented Not Of What He Had Done": Harry Potter as Retelling of Cain and Abel, Part 1

Then Cain, the hard-hearted and cruel murderer, took a large stone and smote his brother with it upon the head, until his brains oozed out, and he weltered in his blood, before him. And Cain repented not of what he had done. “I regret it,” said Voldemort coldly. He turned away; there was no sadness in him, no remorse. Thereupon Allah sent forth a raven who began to scratch the earth to show him how he might cover the corpse of his brother. So seeing he cried: Woe unto me! Was I unable even to be like this raven and find a way to cover the corpse of my brother? Then he became full of remorse at his doing. // And he became of the regretful. “But before you try to kill me, I’d advise you to think about what you’ve done... Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle…”

Section 1.0: Introduction

The Harry Potter series is, at its heart, a retelling and performance of Cain and Abel, the biblical story of the first murder, of Cain telling his brother Abel ‘let us go out into the field’ and killing him. In this retelling, the characters of HP put on different masks, perform different parts, play several characters at once.

Like most stories, Cain and Abel has many different interpretations, and JKR has weaved every single one of those interpretations into HP in a gigantic intricate web that's one of the most fascinating and formative parts of the series, yet one that goes unnoticed by most of fandom.

JKR essentially wrote HP like one long Cain and Abel web weaving post, and in this meta I’ll be quoting all the various interpretations in Jewish, Christian, and Islamic tradition with the corresponding passages in the HP books alluding to them.

Despite the original Cain and Abel story, it's not just about brothers - because HP as a retelling is about brothers and sisters killing their brothers and sisters. And at the center of it all is:

1) the events between and attempted murders of Voldemort, Harry, and Lily by each other

2) the murders of “sisters” Ariana Dumbledore, Merope Gaunt, and Lily Evans by their "brothers" (brothers loosely referring to any familial or symbolic familial dynamic) - Ariana murdered by Albus, Aberforth, and Grindelwald; Merope’s murder by Marvolo, Morfin, and Tom Riddle Sr., and then the six men leading to Lily’s death - Sirius, Snape, Wormtail, Harry, James, and Voldemort.

Some of these characters are Cain in the traditional sense, cruel intentional murderers - such as Voldemort as the main Cain of the story, Merope's family, Wormtail, perhaps Bellatrix depending on how you interpret her. Others are Cain much more symbolically and allude to their unintentionally bringing about the deaths of their loved ones and the subsequent guilt - such as Sirius's guilt over bringing about the deaths of his "brother and sister" James and Lily, Harry's guilt over Lily dying for him, etc.

Notice how there’s a heavy emphasis on twins and sibling dynamics in HP, and it’s because all of that links to the story as a Cain and Abel retelling:

“Fred and George, who were identical to the last freckle.” Fred and George turned to each other and said together, “Wow — we’re identical!” “Parvati Patil’s twin’s in Ravenclaw, and they’re identical. You’d think they’d be together, wouldn’t you?” "Or was it Potter’s identical twin in the Hog’s Head that day?" Albus and Aberforth wore matching lacy collared jackets and had identical, shoulder-length hairstyles. Albus looked several years older, but otherwise the two boys looked very alike, for this was before Albus’s nose had been broken and before he started wearing glasses. “You will suggest to the Order of the Phoenix,” Snape murmured, “that they use decoys. Polyjuice Potion. Identical Potters.”

Harry and Voldemort are framed as "twin brothers" (brother wands, the twin cores, etc), as Cain and Abel are brothers and in some interpretations twins too, and the lightning scar on Harry's forehead is the mark of Cain.

Voldemort as Cain is driving the story - he murders or nearly murders almost every familial relationship he has, from all his living relatives to Ginny as a "sister", to Snape and Bellatrix, to of course, his "brother" Harry. Voldemort also turns his followers/“true family” into Cain as they become more and more like him - i.e. Barty Crouch Jr. murders his father, Snape is made to murder his father figure Dumbledore, Bellatrix ordered to kill Tonks, etc.

And, Voldemort marking Harry as his equal, turning him into someone like himself, has multiple meanings - because just like he did with his followers, Voldemort who is Cain himself marked Harry as Cain too, Harry marked to one day kill his "brother" Voldemort, as well as marked to inadvertently lead to the deaths of his loved ones, to become a killer of his "family" the way Voldemort is, due to Voldemort's choice regarding the prophecy.

Additionally, in some interpretations, Cain and Abel have twin sisters, which is also weaved into this text in integral ways - one being that Lily is framed is Voldemort's symbolic sister the way Harry and Voldemort are "brothers", which you can read about in my meta Unweaving Canon Lily: Parallels to Voldemort.

Also note that most of these characters play the role of Cain, as well as playing multiple other roles - there isn't just one Cain and one Abel and one the Lord and one Cain's twin sister, etc. Indeed that’s the point, because they’re “twins”, they’re not just Cain and Abel, but often Cain and Cain.

In Parts 1 and 2 I'll explore all the different interpretations of the original passage, and then in Part 3 I'll expand on the passage itself in Genesis 4:1-18. Read Part 2 here. Read on Ao3 here.

Some disclaimers and notes: 1) This meta is meant to unravel a lot of the symbolism and allusions JKR weaved into the story, and isn’t necessarily a literal interpretation of these characters.

2) Some of these may seem strange to emphasize, because obviously they're words or phrases that appear often and may not be intentional references to this narrative thread, but some specific details and JKR's writing style makes me think they are - i.e. see how JKR weaved in Dracula passages in this post; there's also Tom Riddle’s “burnished gold shield” borrowing from a passage in the Aeneid in this post, etc. So an extremely close reading of the text and paying attention to the exact wording (sometimes even just a single word) does matter a lot here to catch the allusions.

On that note, I’ve done my best to elaborate on the quotes, but since this is sort of like web weaving, many times the quotes are the meta, so make sure to pay close attention to them.

3) There’s a lot to unpack and it’s really hard to fit everything in one meta series - so bear with me on some of loose threads, I plan to elaborate on them in future metas.

4) Admittedly I got lazy with citations - my main sources are the article Why Did Cain Kill Abel? and this article on the Quran, and you can find elaboration on these interpretations and the sources for them there.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Section 2.0

2.1 Now the brothers rejoiced in different pursuits. Abel, the younger, had regard for righteousness and, believing that God was present in all the things that were done by him, looked after virtue; and his life was that of a shepherd. On the other hand, Cain was both most wicked in other respects and, looking only to gain, was the first to think of ploughing the earth; and he killed his brother for the following reason.

It seeming best to them to sacrifice to God, Cain offered fruits from the cultivation of the soil and plants, while Abel offered milk and the first-born of the grazing animals. God took greater pleasure in this latter sacrifice, being honored by things that grow automatically and in accordance with nature but not by those things that grow by the force of grasping man with craftiness. Consequently, Cain, provoked that Abel had been valued more highly by God, killed his brother and rendering his corpse unseen, supposed that he would escape notice.

The following quotes may have weaved in the first passage, as Cain is often referred to as "the wicked one" - in HBP, “Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction” and “This time, as you will have seen, he killed not for revenge, but for gain.”

As for the second passage, Lily’s sacrifice isn’t just referring to Lily as a Christ figure - it’s also the sacrifice Cain and Abel offer to God. There are several ways it could fit - one being that Voldemort and Harry as Cain and Abel respectively, offered the same sacrifice which is Lily's death.

Voldemort doing so was looked upon with disfavor by God, because he was murdering his symbolic "sister", which lead to his partial death, while God favored Harry’s sacrifice because he got his mother willingly sacrificing herself for him, which led to Harry surviving the Killing Curse.

The jealousy aspect then, which is the most common interpretation of why Cain killed Abel, refers to Voldemort's jealousy over Harry's immortality:

“Well,” said Riddle, smiling pleasantly, “how is it that you - a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent - managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?” (CoS)

Harry’s immortality is one way in which Voldemort and Harry are twins, and in a way is tied Voldemort’s name (meaning “flight from death” in French) - because Harry is Voldemort’s “twin brother” Flight From Death #2 (and Lily is Voldemort’s “twin sister”, Flight From Death #3 - more in this in future metas).

Another interpretation is that Voldemort and Harry are both Cain, and like the twins they are, both again offering the same sacrifice, and here both offering Lily as a sacrifice alludes to the guilt Harry feels at (inadvertently) being Cain and bringing about Lily's death for his immortality. Both offerings were looked upon with disfavor and rejected by God, and both Voldemort and Harry as Cain were exiled elsewhere, made to restlessly wander ("You will be a restless wanderer on the earth" from Genesis 4:12) - Voldemort in Albania, Harry with the Dursleys.

The last line of this passage - Cain, provoked that Abel had been valued more highly by God, killed his brother and rendering his corpse unseen, supposed that he would escape notice - is extremely important to analyzing Lily, but that’s for another meta.

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2.2 She gave birth to an infant and his color was that of the stars. He fell into the hands of the midwife and (at once) he began to pluck up the grass, for in his mother’s hut grass was planted. The midwife replied to him and told him, “God is just that he did not at all leave you in my hands. For, you are Cain, the perverse one, killer of the good, for you are the one who plucks up the fruit-bearing tree, and not he who plants it. You are the bearer of bitterness and not of sweetness.”

Interestingly, Sirius and Snape as narrative mirrors were inspired by the same passage - both of them are Cain, Sirius for causing his "brother" James and "sister" Lily's deaths through the Secret Keeper switch, and Snape for causing his "sister" Lily's death by conveying the prophecy.

"Color of the stars" refers to the Black family's star naming pattern, while "grass planted in his mother's hut" refers to Snape's connection to Eileen Prince and Potions, and Snape is shown "plucking up the grass and fruit bearing tree" in this scene in The Prince's Tale:

“Oh yes, they’re arguing,” said Snape. He picked up a fistful of leaves and began tearing them apart, apparently unaware of what he was doing. “But it won’t be that long and I’ll be gone.” “Dementors are for people who do really bad stuff. They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban. You’re not going to end up in Azkaban, you’re too —” He turned red again and shredded more leaves. Then a small rustling noise behind Harry made him turn: Petunia, hiding behind a tree, had lost her footing. (DH)

That refers to Snape plucking up the forbidden fruit of knowledge offered by Voldemort as the snake (see this meta by @ashesandhackles). The line about being the bearer of bitterness may refer to how Petunia and Snape, as Lily’s “sister and brother”, both have similarly negative names - Petunia flowers symbolize bitterness, anger, resentment; Severus means serious, grave, stern.

Fandom has pointed out that Snape is often associated with feminine figures i.e. Lady of the Lake; it's possible that Snape wearing women clothes (i.e. wearing his mother's clothes while sitting on the ground facing Lily - facing her as her reflection/"twin") is an allusion to Snape as Cain's twin sister (Cain in this case could be Lily, Voldemort, Harry, or Sirius).

Snape is also all but explicitly called Harry’s identical twin in OoTP - the joke here is that while Fudge was referring to the DA meeting in the Hog's Head, it was once upon a time Harry's “identical twin” - a.k.a Snape - in the Hog's Head:

“Yes, do let’s hear the latest cock-and-bull story designed to pull Potter out of trouble! Go on, then, Dumbledore, go on — Willy Widdershins was lying, was he? Or was it Potter’s identical twin in the Hog’s Head that day? Or is there the usual simple explanation involving a reversal of time, a dead man coming back to life, and a couple of invisible dementors?” (OoTP) “The Hog’s Head Inn, which Sybill chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele than the Three Broomsticks [...] Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Sybill Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My — our — one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building.” (OoTP)

The "infant the color of the stars" additionally refers to Bellatrix, who also is Cain, killer of her “brother” Sirius, and later of Tonks; she also plays the “twin sister” of Cain (in this case Sirius).

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2.3 And the time arrived when Cain and Abel had gone up toward their fields. Two demons resembling Cain and Abel came. Now, one demon reproached the other demon. He became angry with him and took a stone sword, which was of a transparent stone. He cut his throat and killed him. And when Cain saw the blood, he went quickly and took the stone in his hand(s).

This passage corresponds to the scene of Ron destroying Slytherin’s locket - the stone sword is Gryffindor’s sword, Riddle-Harry and Riddle-Hermione are the demon resembling Cain and Ron as the other demon, Riddle-Harry and Riddle-Hermione “reproach” Ron aka torment and taunt him, Ron becomes angry and kills Riddle in the locket with the “stone sword”.

The imagery of "cutting his throat" may also refer to how the locket strangles Harry:

All he could do was raise a shaking hand to his throat and feel the place where the locket had cut tightly into his flesh. It was gone: Someone had cut him free. (DH)

All of them in that scene resemble Cain (in this case Voldemort), because the Riddle-Harry and Riddle-Hermione, distorted versions of the real people, verbally abuse and humiliate Ron using his insecurities exactly like Voldemort does to others.

Ron here also resembles Cain - when Harry sees Ron's red eyes, he fears that Ron too has become Cain, that he's become like Tom Riddle and will kill him, his "brother".

“Ron, stab it, STAB IT!” Harry yelled, but Ron did not move: His eyes were wide, and the Riddle-Harry and the Riddle-Hermione were reflected in them, their hair swirling like flames, their eyes shining red, their voices lifted in an evil duet. Ron looked toward him, and Harry thought he saw a trace of scarlet in his eyes. “Ron — ?” The sword flashed, plunged: Harry threw himself out of the way, there was a clang of metal and a long, drawn-out scream. Harry whirled around, slipping in the snow, wand held ready to defend himself: but there was nothing to fight. (DH)

The Cain and Abel passage then continues, and now this part corresponds to the scene of Voldemort killing Snape, with LV as Cain and Snape as Abel.

2.4 But when Abel saw him coming, he begged him, “Do not make me die, O my brother Cain!” He, however, did not accept his prayer and he spilled Abel’s blood in front of him.

And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape’s face was like a death mask. It was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes. “My Lord — let me go to the boy —” […] “You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen.” “My Lord —” “[…] While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine.” “My Lord!” Snape protested, raising his wand. “It cannot be any other way,” said Voldemort. “I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last.” [...] He pointed it at the starry cage holding the snake, which drifted upward, off Snape, who fell sideways onto the floor, blood gushing from the wounds in his neck. [...] He did not know why he was doing it, why he was approaching the dying man: He did not know what he felt as he saw Snape’s white face, and the fingers trying to staunch the bloody wound at his neck. (DH)

Interestingly, once Snape realizes Voldemort's about to kill him, he protests and begs Voldemort not to kill him three times, echoing Lily begging Voldemort and how she offers her own life in exchange for Harry's three times.

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2.5 It was said: Cain killed Abel by throwing a rock at his head while he was asleep. It was also said: Cain choked Abel violently and bit him to death as beasts do.

Not sure what throwing a rock at his head refers to, but the latter sentence ties to the scene where Voldemort tries to kill Harry and Snape via Nagini, and then Merope’s locket horcrux choking Harry, with Voldemort as Cain, and Harry and Snape as Abel.

The snake struck as he raised his wand: The force of the bite to his forearm sent the wand spinning up toward the ceiling; [...] He could not get enough breath into his lungs to call back: Then a heavy smooth mass smashed him to the floor and he felt it slide over him, powerful, muscular — “No!” he gasped, pinned to the floor. “Yes,” whispered the voice. “Yesss... hold you... hold you...” “Accio... Accio Wand...” But nothing happened and he needed his hands to try to force the snake from him as it coiled itself around his torso, squeezing the air from him, pressing the Horcrux hard into his chest (DH) “[…] The snake bit you too, but I’ve cleaned the wound and put some dittany on it...” He pulled the sweaty T-shirt he was wearing away from himself and looked down. There was a scarlet oval over his heart where the locket had burned him. He could also see the half-healed puncture marks to his forearm. (DH) Then something closed tight around his neck. He thought of water weeds, though nothing had brushed him as he dived, and raised his empty hand to free himself. It was not weed: The chain of the Horcrux had tightened and was slowly constricting his windpipe [...] Thrashing, suffocating, he scrabbled at the strangling chain, his frozen fingers unable to loosen it (DH)

And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: But then Voldemort’s intention became clear. The snake’s cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue. “Kill.” There was a terrible scream. Harry saw Snape’s face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake’s fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. (DH)

In general there are quite a few similar scenes involving choking and strangulation - i.e. Marvolo attempting to kill Merope by choking her, Vernon strangling Harry in OoTP, etc. It also evokes a dementor’s/Death’s hands wrapping around someone.

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2.6 And so they went on, until they came to a lonely place, where there were no sheep; then Abel said to Cain, “Behold, my brother, we are weary of walking, for we see none of the trees, nor of the fruits, nor of the verdure, nor of the sheep, nor any one of the things of which you told me. Where are those sheep of yours that you told me to bless?” Then Cain said to him, “Come on, and presently you will see many beautiful things, but go before me, until I come up to you.” And Abel was walking in his innocence, without guile, not believing his brother would kill him. Then Cain, when he came up to him, comforted him with his talk, walking a little behind him. Then he hastened and smote him with the staff, blow upon blow, until he was stunned.

This refers to the scene of Voldemort's vanquishment, with Lily as Cain and Voldemort as Abel. Because the text reveals Lily, far from being solely the Virgin Mary, is also Cain in several ways, and reveals that Lily killed Voldemort intentionally (more on this in future metas).

This is Voldemort walking in his innocence, without guile, not believing Lily would kill him:

He could hear her screaming from the upper floor, trapped, but as long as she was sensible, she, at least, had nothing to fear... He climbed the steps, listening with faint amusement to her attempts to barricade herself in... She had no wand upon her either... How stupid they were, and how trusting, thinking that their safety lay in friends, that weapons could be discarded even for moments (DH)

Then Lily comforted Voldemort with her talk when she pretended to plead and begged him for mercy and to take her life instead. Then Lily smote him blow upon blow, until he was stunned:

“I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman’s foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. Aaah… pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it.” (GOF)

The phrase “blow upon blow” is alluded to in the wording used for Ariana’s murder by Dumbledore:

“Though Ariana had been in poor health for a long time, the blow, coming so soon after the loss of their mother, had a profound effect on both of her brothers.” “You see, I never knew which of us, in that last, horrific fight, had actually cast the curse that killed my sister. You may call me cowardly: You would be right. Harry, I dreaded beyond all things the knowledge that it had been I who brought about her death, not merely through my arrogance and stupidity, but that I actually struck the blow that snuffed out her life.” (DH)

And now note that in the next quote, Dumbledore doesn't say that Lily "died to save" Harry - he instead uses active phrasing, and very similar to the phrasing he uses for Ariana’s death, again establishing both Lily and Dumbledore as Cain - Lily striking the death blow on her “brother” Voldemort, as Dumbledore fears he did with Ariana:

“Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort’s soul was blasted apart from the whole, and latched itself onto the only living soul left in that collapsing building.” (DH)

I'll further expand on the significance of “walking a little behind him" in a future meta, but to explain some here, the phrase is weaved in PS with the Mirror of Erised, setting up Lily as the true killer of her "brother" Voldemort and Dumbledore as killer of his "sister" Ariana:

He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him [...] (PS) He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn’t noticed him. (PS)

The reason Lily is right behind Harry, presenting Lily as Cain to Harry, is referring to Lily’s guilt at that fact, similar to Harry's guilt at getting Sirius killed, etc - because it was Lily’s choice that deflected the Killing Curse, Lily who fulfilled the prophecy and landed Harry in these circumstances. More on this in section 2.10.

Lily's arms are emphasized because they're Death's arms closing around Voldemort from behind - hence "walking a little behind him":

he felt arms enclose him from behind, thin, fleshless arms cold as death, and his feet left the ground as they lifted him and began to carry him, slowly and surely, back to the water, and he knew there would be no release, that he would be drowned (HBP) now little lights were popping inside his head, and he was going to drown, there was nothing left, nothing he could do, and the arms that closed around his chest were surely Death’s... (DH) [...] and there she stood, the child in her arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen instead... (DH) His job was to walk calmly into Death’s welcoming arms. [...] the end would be clean, and the job that ought to have been done in Godric’s Hollow would be finished: Neither would live, neither could survive. (DH)

The phrases “Come on”, “until I come up to you”, “when he came up to him” may be alluded to in the repetition here, and also that the Killing Curse’s deflection happens on the upper floor of the house.

“I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you’d come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter.” (COS) "Time’s nearly up. Potter’s had his hour. He’s not coming.” “And he was sure he’d come! He won’t be happy.” (DH) “I thought he would come,” said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. “I expected him to come.” (DH) “The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters!" (GOF) “Now it was just Father and I, alone in the house. And then... [...] My master came for me.” (GOF) “Your mother’s coming…” he said quietly. “She wants to see you… it will be all right… hold on…” And she came… first her head, then her body… a young woman with long hair, the smoky, shadowy form of Lily Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort’s wand (GOF)

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2.7 At that time Eve told Adam, “My lord, Adam, in my sleep I saw that the blood of my son Abel was pouring into the mouth of Cain his brother, and he drank it without mercy. And Abel beseeched him to leave him (a little) of his blood, and he did not agree to hearken to him but he drank it completely … and it could not at all be removed from his body.”

This corresponds to Voldemort taking Harry’s blood inside him - however it also refers to Lily, Voldemort taking a bit of Harry and Lily inside him, both not able to be removed from his body:

“I wanted Harry Potter’s blood. I wanted the blood of the one who had stripped me of power thirteen years ago... for the lingering protection his mother once gave him would then reside in my veins too...” (GOF) “He took my blood,” said Harry. “Precisely!” said Dumbledore. “He took your blood and rebuilt his living body with it! Your blood in his veins, Harry, Lily’s protection inside both of you! He tethered you to life while he lives!” [...] “He took your blood believing it would strengthen him. He took into his body a tiny part of the enchantment your mother laid upon you when she died for you. His body keeps her sacrifice alive, and while that enchantment survives, so do you and so does Voldemort’s one last hope for himself.” (DH)

This could also refer to the horcrux inside Harry, a piece of Voldemort that can't be removed from his body, and also the description of Ginny here, and how that ties into the way Voldemort's parasitic to his followers/"family":

"Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?" Harry said, thunderstruck. (COS) "So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted... I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul into her..." (CoS)

Note the repetition of the word "pouring" ("the blood of Abel was pouring into the mouth of Cain", "poured out her soul", "pouring a little of my soul into her"), and how words like "diet" and "feeding" evoke the idea that Voldemort’s drinking Ginny's soul like drinking blood, and likewise she’s made to drink his - tying into the Dracula parallel mentioned in this post.

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2.8 Cain was brought punishment very soon afterwards. On the same day he killed his brother, Abel, his foot was tied up to his thighbone and his face was forcibly directed up to the sun disk. His face used to go where the sun goes as a way of punishment and penalty in return for what he had done to his own brother.

On the same day when Voldemort killed Harry in the Final Battle and Harry was once more resurrected, Voldemort's "foot being tied up to this thighbone" likely means that Voldemort finally dies, his feet are no longer leaving the ground and landing lightly, he's no longer flying from death. And as he dies, his face is "forcibly directed up to the sun":

A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort’s was suddenly a flaming blur. Harry heard the high voice shriek as he too yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing Draco’s wand: “Avada Kedavra!” “Expelliarmus!” [...] Harry saw Voldemort’s green jet meet his own spell, saw the Elder Wand fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling [...] The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him, and the first to reach him were Ron and Hermione, and it was their arms that were wrapped around him, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened him (DH)

This is also an allusion to Voldemort as a vampire (the Dracula influence is obvious), melting in the sun.

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2.9 However, Abel's saying when Cain threatened to kill him: {If you do stretch your hand against me to kill me, I shall never stretch my hand against you to kill you

This corresponds to Voldemort using Avada Kedavra while Harry only uses Expelliarmus and also Harry walking to his death, never stretching his hand against Voldemort to kill him.

It also ties to Lily not directly fighting back while Voldemort kills her with his wand, and the fight between Aberforth and Dumbledore:

Aberforth shouted that it was all Albus’s fault that Ariana was dead and then punched him in the face. According to Bathilda, Albus did not even defend himself, and that’s odd enough in itself, Albus could have destroyed Aberforth in a duel with both hands tied behind his back. (DH) when at last he flung himself across Voldemort’s path, and did not raise a wand to defend himself, the end would be clean (DH)

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2.10 What were they arguing about? They said, “Let’s divide up the world. One took the land and the other [took] the movable goods. This one said, “The land you are standing upon is mine.” This one said, “What you are wearing is mine.” This one said “Strip” [so you are not wearing my clothes]! and this one said “Fly” [so you are not on my land]! As a consequence, “Cain rose up against Abel…”

They both took lands and they both took movable goods. What were they arguing about? One said “the Temple will be built in my territory” and this one said “in my territory…”

“You know,” said Sirius loudly [...] “I think I’d prefer it if you didn’t give orders here, Snape. It’s my house, you see.” (OOTP) “This is my house, Bella, you don’t give orders in my —” (DH) “Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now.” (DH)

Voldemort is giving Lily orders in her house, on her land, in her territory - and she doesn't obey (And, well, since James died first, Lily inherited all his stuff, so I guess it was truly her land).

Both the Godric’s Hollow house and the blood wards on Privet Drive are also Lily saying to Voldemort, this land you’re trying to stand upon is mine, Voldemort can’t enter without her express permission:

And his scream was Harry’s scream, his pain was Harry’s pain… that it could happen here, where it had happened before… here, within sight of that house where he had come so close to knowing what it was to die... to die… The pain was so terrible… ripped from his body And then he broke: He was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the child was trapped and screaming, but far away (DH)

The same applies to the graveyard scene in GoF, where Priori Incantatem first makes both Harry and Voldemort fly away from where they’re standing after Voldemort points to his father’s grave and mentions Lily, alluding to Lily’s grave (which comes full circle in the graveyard scene in DH):

“You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father,” he hissed softly. “A Muggle and a fool... very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child... and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death...” And then — nothing could have prepared Harry for this — he felt his feet lift from the ground. He and Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering golden light. They glided away from the tombstone of Voldemort’s father and then came to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves (GOF)

That’s Lily telling her "brother" Voldemort, you mentioned my death, therefore this land you’re standing upon is mine, and Fly [so you’re not on my land!].

You could say the territory Voldemort as “brother and sister” are fighting over is Harry - Voldemort says "Mine!", and immediately Lily's magic comes to save Harry and says no, he's mine:

Barely gripping the plummeting bike with his knees, Harry heard Voldemort scream, “Mine!” It was over: He could not see or hear where Voldemort was; he glimpsed another Death Eater swooping out of the way and heard, “Avada —” As the pain from Harry’s scar forced his eyes shut, his wand acted of its own accord. He felt it drag his hand around like some great magnet, saw a spurt of golden fire through his half-closed eyelids, heard a crack and a scream of fury. The remaining Death Eater yelled; Voldemort screamed, “No!” (DH)

While Voldemort tries to claim Harry as his, Lily is claiming Harry as hers; while Voldemort marked Harry as his equal, Lily marked Harry as her equal:

"Love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign [...] It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good" (PS)

But there’s another meaning to this - that Lily also inadvertently marked Harry as Cain, because it was Lily’s choice that forged the connection between Harry and Voldemort, and therefore Lily’s choice that resulted in all the pain Harry’s going through, Lily’s sacrifice being what is truly responsible for that scar on Harry’s forehead, and Lily's subsequent guilt the way Dumbledore feels guilt about Ariana etc.

"What you are wearing is mine" and "So you are not wearing my clothes" refers to Death's Invisibility Cloak - which represents the aegis and Lily and Harry framed as the two “true owners” (see my meta “When Lily Cast Her Life As A Shield": Analysis of the Shield Charm for elaboration). Those lines are weaved into this highly significant passage:

“One: He’s sitting on my chair. Two: He’s wearing my clothes. Three: His name’s Remus Lupin...” (OoTP)

This joke actually has an important hidden meaning relating to Lily, but more on that in future metas.

"This one said 'Fly'" also refers to Lily, Voldemort, and Snape's ability to fly unsupported, as well as Harry's Quidditch skill and him being Voldemort's "twin brother" Flight From Death #2.

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Read Part 2 of this meta

See also: this post

#lord voldemort #voldemort #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #sirius black #harry james potter #lily evans #lily evans potter #severus snape #hp meta #albus dumbledore #ariana dumbledore #bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix black #bellatrix black lestrange #gellert grindelwald #aberforth dumbledore #harry potter meta #ginny weasley

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canidaery · 5 months

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In the recently published Cass Review (2024), there is consistent mention of the prevalence of autism in the ‘trans and gender-diverse’ population, which is ‘three to six times higher’ than in the cis population ‘according to some studies’, such as Warrier et al., 2020 (Cass 5.41). The report cites concern in de Vries et al. (2011b) about whether autistic trans adolescents are experiencing “a general feeling of being just “different”” or a ““core” cross-gender identity”. A parent is quoted saying that their child, formerly bullied due to ‘ASD’, became a ‘celebrity’ and received ‘social kudos’ upon coming out (Cass p. 160); autistic children, including underdiagnosed “teenage girls”, are noted to have trouble “fitt[ing] in” (Cass 5.43) and “express[ing] how they are feeling about […] their gender identity” (Cass 5.44). There is also a note that a higher % of adolescents who discontinued puberty suppression were autistic (Cass 14.23). (I cannot examine the relevant commissioned study yet, but would note that the raw number here is likely to be very low.)

The obvious subtext here is that autistic trans children are less trustworthy about their articulation of transness than neurotypical trans children, and should therefore face more gatekeeping and vetting. In the report, it is noted that children, who know about this preconception, are routinely refusing to disclose neurodiversity to clinicians for fear of discreditation (Cass 11.11); the report’s response to this is to advocate for mandatory clinical screening for “neurodevelopmental conditions, including autism spectrum disorder” at point of entry for adolescent patients (Recommendation 2). I’m not going to get into the full scope of problems with this; there is no evidence that autistic people are impaired in identifying their own gender, or that the higher incidence of transness/gender diversity in the autistic population is symptomatic of misidentification. But I am going to talk about one study cited in Cass:

“In contrast [to the patients in the original Dutch study of puberty blockers], in a detailed study of young people with ASD and gender dysphoria (de Vries et al., 2010), it was noted that “‘while almost all adolescents with GID [gender identity dysphoria] are sexually attracted to individuals of their birth sex, the majority of the gender dysphoric adolescents with ASD were sexually attracted to partners of the other sex” (Cass 8.29). [highlights my own]

Anyone who is familiar with Blanchardian typology will recognise what is going on here: baseline expected attraction to individuals of one’s ‘birth sex’ (i.e. trans straight attraction) is contrasted with a suspect population who experience attraction to ‘other sex’ individuals (i.e. trans gay attraction). ‘Other sex’ attraction is used to devalue claims to transness in all trans populations, especially trans women, as it marks them both as desirably recuperable to cisheterosexuality and as unable to perform either legible homosexual gender variance or sufficiently authentic — i.e. straight — future transness, rendering them an ideal plausibly deniable target of gendered abuse. Transphobic fantasy fixates on the trans woman who pursues/‘predates on’ women, and trans men who pursue men are also a disproportionate target of anti-effeminate mockery. (This model also obviously erases bisexuality, which Cass itself notes is a high incidence sexuality among all trans groups (Cass 8.3), and uses bioessentialist sex terminology — it appears that if I exclusively dated a trans woman I would be classified here as ‘attracted to males’).

It shouldn’t matter regardless; autism and sexual orientation both shouldn’t impede someone’s right to medical autonomy. However, given this claim is clearly being used to delegitimise autistic trans people — including in the original study, where they claim that ‘adult transsexuals not sexually attracted to their natal sex show in some studies less satisfactory postoperative functioning compared with birth-sex attracted transsexuals’ — it is notable that the claim is false. It is obviously false the second you look at their data. They have a sample of nine adolescents (which would prove nothing even if the majority were ‘non-birth-sex attracted’) and the claim is still wrong about their own data.

De Vries et al (2010) is a nightmare of a study. It’s an analysis of 16 children with ASD who attended a Dutch gender clinic between 2004 and 2007 — specifically 7 children (ages 7–10) and 9 adolescents (ages 12–18). All the patients are misgendered throughout. There are also deeply disturbing comments about the sexual arousal and genital discomfort of children as young as 7, suggesting that the children seen at the clinic were asked deeply inappropriate and traumatising questions from admission. Various aspects of the under-11s’ profiles are immediately provoking, such as what the ‘behavioral program’ that reduced an 8-year-old’s ‘dressing up’ consisted of, or why certain children were referred to the clinic at all (some seem to have presented primarily with cross-gender behaviour rather than cross-gender identification). In any case, the sexual orientation of the under-11s clearly isn’t known, and the Cass Review’s claim is specific to adolescents anyway.

Of the adolescents, all of whom have a stated sexual orientation, we have:

AFAB 12-year-old, attracted to boys

AFAB 16-year-old, attracted to girls

AFAB 18-year-old, attracted to girls

AMAB 13-year-old, attracted to ‘neither boys nor girls’

AMAB 14-year-old, attracted to boys

AMAB 15-year-old, attracted to both girls and boys

AMAB 16-year-old, attracted to boys (specifically ‘homosexual’ boys)

AMAB 16-year-old, attracted to girls

AMAB 17-year-old, attracted to girls

By my count, to use their terminology that’s 3 adolescents with solely ‘other sex’ attraction (and I would note that one of those is 12 years old), 4 with ‘birth sex’, 1 bisexual and 1 with no stated attraction. THAT IS NOT A MAJORITY. EVEN IF YOU INCLUDE THE BISEXUAL IT’S NOT A MAJORITY.

There’s a more salient aspect of this whole thing, though: the outcomes of the adolescents. The only adolescents approved for ‘SR’ — sexual reassignment, i.e. surgery — at this gender clinic were the ones who are ‘birth sex attracted’. The AFAB kid attracted to boys was ‘not eligible for SR’ and ‘happy being a ‘tomboy’ after counselling’; the bisexual AMAB kid was rendered ineligible and ‘referred for cognitive behavioral therapy around disturbing sexual arousal’; of the two AMAB kids attracted solely to girls, one was rendered ineligible but still had a ‘strong wish for SR’ at followup, while the other dropped out of the clinic, was ‘unwilling to assent to a treatment plan’, and got surgery abroad (good for her). ‘Non-birth-sex attracted’ trans adolescents here are obviously systematically gatekept from surgical interventions, and there are murky suggestions of conversion therapy, while most of the ‘birth-sex-attracted’ trans adolescents were awaiting surgery or hormones at followup.

But wait, there’s more. The study itself argues for lower ‘postoperative functioning’ of ‘non-birth-attracted transsexuals’, citing Smith et al. (2005) on ‘Transsexual subtypes: Clinical and theoretical significance’. (This study is straight up Blanchardian; it literally says that trans women attracted to men have a ‘more convincing cross-gender appearance.’) What does ‘postoperative functioning’ mean? It means that gay and bisexual trans people have ‘significantly more psychological problems’ than straight trans people — which would seem evidently explainable by a) less understood etiology of transness in non-homosexual-presenting trans youth, which means later treatment & more gatekept treatment, and b) worse cultural treatment of gay trans people.

So, the Cass Review took a study full of glaring markers of sexual misconduct & conversion therapy being enacted on trans children, quoted a statement about the data that is obviously incorrect if you look at the data for five seconds, used it to make a point intended to discredit autistic youth / paint them as delusional heterosexuals, and ignored blatant evidence of a long and documented history of gay and bi trans people being blocked from necessary healthcare interventions.

#cass review

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basicallyredrobin · 3 months

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Incorrect Young Justice Core 4 Quotes

Bart: Ah, Hello again. We really need to stop meeting like this.

Tim: Maybe we would, if you would sTOP BREAKING INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE!!!

Cassie: What do you want then?

Bart: Er… something work related.

Cassie: What department is this?

Bart: Sorry?

Cassie: Well, if it’s work related you’d obviously know what department this is. What department is this?

Bart: *looks at Tim and Kon* Some sort of homosexual department?

Bart: What do you call quantums of electromagnetic radiation that don’t get along?

Kon: What did you just say-

Bart: Foetons! *Laughs*

Kon: Wh-what?

Police: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single motorcycle.

Cassie, with Bart and Kon behind her: Wait, what do you mean THREE?!

Police: Yes…three.

Bart: Oh, my God— What the fuck!?

Police: Wha-

Bart: Tim FUCKING FELL OFF!

Cassie: Oh gosh I wish I got more sleep I only got six hours!

Kon: Six? I only got three!

Bart: You guys got sleep?

Tim, comes stumbling out of his room and grabs a jug of coffee before saying: What year is it??

#tim drake #young justice incorrect quotes #core four #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #kon el #superboy #wonder girl #bart allen impulse #red robin #red robin rambles #incorrect dc quotes

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savethegrishaverse · 8 months

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We’re back with our next round of prompts Third Army! This week (January 14th to January 20th) we want to talk all about “resilience”. The theme of always coming back, the theme of making things our own.

We will never give up, we will never die out. And to aid that we are going to give out prompts and boost content about our Grishaverse, and we need your help! Come join us, send us your fanfics, post your art, and make sure to use hashtag #Third Army so we can see each post!

Writing prompt: "Genya felt like a statue as she sat at the head of the council room's table. She felt marble and cold and distant, but David's hand was across the table and out of her reach. She was alone here as she prepared to give her speech, but she had to do her best. She had to make the Triumvirate proud and win over the councilmen of Ravka, lest they continue to claim Nikolai a monster."

Writing prompt: Why not make an “incorrect quotes” post for Shadow And Bone! It can be a modern social media AU or a text post from the canon era, whatever you prefer!

Writing prompt: It’s a staple in the fanfiction community, but for good reason. Take your favorite ship and throw them in a “flower shop right next to tattoo parlor business rivals” AU!

Art prompt: We've seen Dan Zollinger's art of the Saints, now draw your favorite Saint in your own style.

Art Prompt: Kaz says he will tear Pekka down “Brick by Brick” - let’s see that again, but with literal building bricks! Reenact a scene from Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows in lego form!

Photoshop challenge: Jesper says that maybe he likes Wylan’s stupid face - let’s photoshop that “stupid” face on all sorts of different things! The more bizarre the better!

Photoshop challenge: Let’s practice tailoring with Genya! Give the Shadow and Bone characters makeovers - maybe the Darkling is going through an emo/punk phase (it’s not a phase Baghra) or how about giving Alina a nice cottage-core makeover. Maybe even give Inej a kpop idol dream aesthetic!

Mixed Media challenge: Some of the iconic Crooked Kingdom book parts made it on screen, but not all of them! Why not draft up a gifsets/art/edit to show a Crooked Kingdom scene we haven't had on screen yet?

Video edit prompt: Compile together your favorite highlights and quotes for a "the Shadow and Bone cast once said…" video edit!

Question/Answer prompts: In the Lives of Saints, we learn to apologize and forgive - among other things. We also learn to stand our ground. Never apologize for campaigning for what you love, but maybe we should at the very least send an apology message to the poor Netflix social media managers who got caught in the crossfire of campaigning?

Every week I want to ask people to share happy/hopeful stories about Grishaverse and the campaign. Let’s talk about the friends we’ve made, the kindness in the fandom, and any moments of hope we can share to keep our spirits strong!

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klttn · 1 month

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type your name + core on pinterest n choose six pictures

— 𝜗𝜚 thank u @queenofmistresses for my tag i love you <3 to quote them,, used my real name for this bee tea dubs

@blooming-crimson-flower @nebulacrumbs @bunniehrtz @rosiethevoxobesser @bvnniz @6esiree tag your it <3

#mine ♡#about me <3 #tag game!!

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rineedagger · 5 months

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Some things I've learned this pasts twenty six years

Do NOT alter your form and size to fit into somebody's ribcage. Authenticity is the ground for a healthy environment.

Authenticity can't exist without self-criticism and sticking to your core values.

A peaceful solitude is just as important as a nutritious companionship.

We aren't born knowing, not even of our own self. Wisdom is the fruit of life-long learning, therefore, making mistakes is the key to be and do better (this reminds me of the famously quote "Do not be sorry, be better" from Kratos lol).

Doubting, asking questions, is the concrete to build a fulfilling life.

Remaining the same does not imply to be more stable nor having a healthier life.

Easy and good are not synonyms.

Enough with the label bullshit and the blaming. It isn't about been or not been normal/right, your life/truth is yours only. Do not try to make sense of it using somebody else's eyes.

Medical checking is important. Nobody likes going to the doctor nor feeling sick (and yes, I am talking about going to the therapist and psychiatrist as well). It is part of been human and you will never be alone in the process.

Cooking life actively and over a low heat, is vital to have an appetizing full of flavour meal.

I'm never going to feel ready nor good enough.

Life isn't right nor makes sense. Do not try looking for the missing leg, you'll lose yourself in the process.

Communication is important, but not all communication matters. It has to be direct, understandable and, overall, precised. Overcommunication is as bad as the total absence of it, if not more painful.

Accepting and respecting are not the same thing. One is mandatory while the other, even important, isn't indispensable.

In order to live and not survive, you have to accept your own vulnerability and fragility.

Drinking water is always the good choice.

There will never be enough strawberries to satisfy the craving.

Whoever loves you today may not love you tomorrow, and that's okay.

There isn't such thing as good and bad emotions, rather comfortable and uncomfortable ones. And we must feel them all.

Setting boundaries with yourself and your surrounding is vital to be certain that, whoever remains by your side, is because they actively want you and love you, since there are parts of your self that are not negotiable. If not, you will always be the coach, the therapist, the mother, the sister, the helper, the clown, the mad one, the weirdo, the mysterious one, the thug, the whore, etc., but never you. Consequently, these means an assured expiry date plus food poisoning (I don't know why I'm comparing so much with food...maybe it's because I didn't eat strawberries for a while).

Social media has become a demanding, violent and sick place, filled with expectations, constant stimulation, manipulated or sensational information, rule-following, triggers, distortions and the possibility of been reachable to people that you don't need in your life. It is okay if you can't live in it. Also, if you're the reactive kind, set boundaries immediately with how you manage your social media and your exposure and be firm with it (believe me, I couldn't stand seen someone hating my friend on social media and saying lie after lie after lie...it was REALLY consuming and it leaded to impulsive and shameful acts).

If you are the one that overthinks or re-read texts after a fight, delete them.

Having life-long or very long friendships does not mean that you should cope with every mistreatment.

Do not remain by somebody else's side only because you pity them. Pityness and no compassion is vile.

The same with egotistical interests. The other person is a whole living being aside of yourself, if you put your own interests and greeds as the motivation of that relationship or over it, is vile.

The world is not trying to punish you for any mistake you've done nor for any joy you've experienced. That is, indeed, the process of living.

Boredom is a freaking gift, and a pleasure indeed.

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spicyviren · 5 months

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Oh let me meditate on the beast of devouring that feeds on the stars, that star devourer dragon Let me repel this Star dragon and banish it from the light of my Sun

- Ancient Sunfire chant, Tales of Xadia

I'm thinking about the sun and the stars and how Laurelion is, probably, both.

(Reposted because I’m a damn fool!!)

The Big Bang, in real life

The majority of atoms which make up us, our earth, and even our very own sun, were formed in the hearts of the very first stars in the universe.

These stars were made of lighter elements, mostly Hydrogen, Helium, and Lithium. But under the immense pressure at the core of those first stars, heavier atoms like Carbon, Oxygen and Nitrogen were formed. The stars eventually died - exploded - and released those heavier elements into the universe to be crafted into other forms.

As Carl Sagan famously put it, "We are made of star stuff."

And so Aaravos's quote in the teaser for season six - We are, all of us, stardust - is a blatant nod to the Sagan quote as well as, I am assuming, that aspect of the universe in some shape or form. Allegorically, it speaks to the idea of the universality of existence in the basest sense. But also, it acknowledges that the stars, like everything else, operate generationally.

So in this way, if we are to assume the TDP cosmos operates at least somewhat similar to our own, Xadia's sun is a younger (but still old as balls) star, from a different generation than the stars which are far more distant and ancient.

(As a side note, the very first stars in the universe did not last very long. Though certain stars in existence right now have "lifetimes" which are projected to last longer than the universe has currently been in existence.)

So if Xadia's sun is technically a star, even by Xadia's own admission (see Sunfire chant), then by this metric I have to ask...

What makes the Sun arcanum different from the Star arcanum?

While those first, most ancient of stars produced the materials which would become life, only a sun can sustain life and is therefore inextricably linked with the earth and all the life on it. It's this connection which I imagine is responsible for the change in the nature of the magic.

In Callum's Spellbook, Callum makes some word-association lists for the different types of magic. He associates "truth" with both Sun and Star (perhaps a trait of their shared stardom). No other words match up completely, but it feels like they are referencing similar things within different contexts.

The Sun teaches while the Stars are simply intelligent; the Sun is a "guiding light" while the Stars are associated with "destiny." Further, many of the other words Callum associates with the sun are about being in positive community with others (optimism, warmth, charisma, leadership). The nature of the sun is more giving, nurturing, and dare I say loving than that of your average star. Sun is revealing and honesty, Star is mysterious and reality-altering. Further, there is a dynamism in the words for Sun Magic that is absent from Star Magic - sharing knowledge vs simply having knowledge, guiding vs prescribing a set path.

(Another side note: Callum also mentions that Star mages are born, which, Callum's limited understanding aside, is perhaps a hint about what it will take to connect to the Star Arcanum. I have thoughts, but.... I'll just leave that there, winky face)

Obviously, these word associations can only go so far. Some of the most hostile and arrogant (eh eh!!) figures we've met have been Sun-aligned. But it does make me wonder about the beginning of Sun magic and what that introduction may have looked like.

Ever wonder what those sparkly dots are up there?*

Okay, so big question for me. Is Aaravos a star, like, literally a personification of a ball of gas burning billions of miles away, or is he just like, a very special elf? The same goes for all Startouch elves.

Zubeia refers to Aaravos as both a star and as an elf, and it's one of those things which I can't decide is real or simply a more poetic way of speaking of him. Is "Startouch elf" simply another type of star? Official art also sometimes depicts him and others as constellations. Are they the formed consciousness of a collection stars?

But it also makes me think of how often Sunfire elves personify the sun/the sun orb.

JANAI: You are a student of history, yes? Do you know where the Great Orb of the Sunforge came from? KARIM: Legends say it was a gift from the Sun herself. The gift of a millenium. - "The Drakewood," S4E6

In "The Queen's Mercy," we have...

Aditi nodded. “[...]and so, as the Sun’s daughter, I will lead you into her embrace.”

...and earlier, there is this:

Queen Aditi the Merciful, they called her. Queen Aditi the Kind. The Light of the Sun Incarnate. Kim’dael had thought it all an insufferable exaggeration. Sunfire elves gilded everything they could touch, of course they would do the same to their beloved leader.

Karim personifies the corrupted sun orb in "After Darkness":

He could still see it: the top of the Sunforge Tower, upside-down from where he lay, shrouded in inky corruption. It looked ill, its sickness weeping red and crowning the spire in a haze of blood. [...] We will come back, he promised his beloved, tainted city, his lost home. We will not abandon you. The orb pulsed mutely, a cry for help he could not answer.

TDP uses personification a lot, so it is kind of hard to parse out when it's being literal and when it's being lyrical. Perhaps in the examples cited it's simply the ostentatious way of the Sunfire elves like Kim'dael thinks. But if Aaravos, a known person, can be a star, then I can easily reason vice versa.

In the Book 1 novelization, Aaravos refers to himself as "of the First Elves." And if that is true, it follows that there must have been "Second Elves."

So who is Laurelion?

The significance of the laurel in the Western canon goes back to the myth of Daphne and Apollo.

There are various versions of the story, but essentially, Apollo (popularly associated with the sun), falls helplessly in love with Daphne. Though her reasons vary in different iterations, Daphne turns away from Apollo's affections. She runs and Apollo pursues. Just as Apollo is about to catch her, she begs for help - sometimes from her father, a river god, and sometimes from her mother, a nymph or Gaia - and she is saved by being turned into the laurel tree. In Ovid's Metamorphosis, when Apollo reaches Daphne post-transfiguration, he can still feel her heart beating below the bark. From that point on, the laurel wreath was associated with Apollo, achievement, and victory.

Gold, the element, takes the symbol Au from its Latin word, Aurum, which has etymological ties to 'aurora' (dawn). Names likes Aurelio or Aurelius similarly mean "golden" or "guilded."

So, taken together, I of course think immediately of this:

THAT BEING SAID, this looks more like a weeping willow or a wisteria than it does a laurel, which has bushy foliage rather than hanging. The closest I can maybe get is a mountain laurel, which does have blooms that hang kinda sorta like a wisteria, though not nearly in such a dramatic fashion. But anyway!

The golden laurel...⋆｡°✩Laurelion✩°｡⋆

Interestingly, in Ovid's retelling of Apollo and Daphne, Apollo's love is the result of being struck by Cupid's golden arrow, while Daphne's disgust of Apollo's advances are the result of being struck by a lead-tipped arrow. And so, there is an association there with gold and love. And within the context of the myth - Cupid is getting petty revenge on Apollo after Apollo is boastful and arrogant about his own prowess with a bow and arrow - it's also an instance of weaponizing love.

Which brings us to that which is known everforth as...

The Nova Blade

It is actually quite common for stars to have companions and to exist in what is called a binary star system. In this system, two stars are gravitationally locked in orbit and can appear as a single object when observed by the naked eye. Sometimes, the proximity between these two stars results in what is called a nova - a sudden brightness which appears to be a new star. Novas are not associated with stellar "death" (you'd be thinking of supernova, in that case).

Now in our universe, novas are not actually stars. They are events, momentary bursts of brightness under specific circumstances between two stars. But the name "nova" originally came from the term "stella nova" which means new star.

…and though undying, took last breath, immortal Laurelion was no more. - "The Death of the Immortal"

Did Laurelion just...die? You know, it was really unclear...

I do not think the Nova Blade killed Laurelion in the moment described in the poem. Kazi is so doubtful and Callum is so sure - Callum you fool! - surely that would be too easy (quote quote easy)?

I will grant that "Supernova Blade" would sound kind of hokey, and even originally I had thought, "Oh cool, 'nova,' like 'SUPERnova!'" And then I thought to look up just 'nova' and it turns out it was actually its own thing. But even without all that, the 'though-undying' of it all haunts me.

And so I hold to the idea that the Nova Blade makes an immortal mortal. It does bring death's bite, but in a way in which Laurelion becomes something else, reborn with death's promise like all other mortal beings are.

I have two point five ideas.

The Light of the Sun Incarnate

My first hypothesis is, of course, that Laurelion became the tree with the Sunseed with a name that's a nod to Daphne and Apollo. Of course, I'm assuming here that the tree in which the Sunseed is kept is responsible for producing/sustaining the Sunseed, which may not be true.

Now the drawback of this idea is the legend that the Sunseed was a gift from the Sun herself. So here, it would have to be within the context of the Sun sacrificing Laurelion in some way for this purpose. There's obvious Jesus parallels here which, full disclosure, is not really my bag, baby, but there are plenty of elements in TDP that very easily slot in with Christian canon. But also, in the laurel myth Daphne begs a parent to save her, which puts the sacrifice of it all in a different light. It makes me wonder if the event with the Nova Blade is self-inflicted and, mayhaps, an act of love. So in this sense, the Sun "gifted" the world (or just the Sunfire elves, I dunno) her child by simply letting her child go.

My second hypothesis is that Laurelion became the first Sunfire elf, of the second elves. We are, all of us, stardust. It would not come as a shock to me if all elves were ultimately descended from the Startouch elves of old.

AND THEN we've got Aaron Ehasz talking about how the red dragon scale amulet (...and look, this show does color coding, that's SUN) is somehow related to Laurelion?

Sunfire elf, I say! SUNFIRE ELF!

Combining both of these scenarios, I could see Laurelion being the child of the Sun (again IF we are to assume each star is a living entity). Or maybe Startouch elves are born OF stars while not, technically, being the same thing, like an egg hatching the next evolution of its mother.

And so, perhaps Laurelion chose to become mortal, to become the first Sunfire Elf. And all of Laurelion's children, and their children's children, and their children's children's children, they were all of them children of the sun, the light of the sun incarnate, bringing the hope and optimism of something new to the world; destined to return in death to the embrace of their very first mother. And as a symbol of her love, the Sun gifted Laurelion the Sunseed, golden and cradled within a tree.

*oddly relevant Lion King reference

#the dragon prince #laurelion #speculation #you all i am a fuck up and deleted the original post #in case the “keep reading” doesn't work for you #here it is

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sgt-scottymoreau · 3 months

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Beginning of the end, End of the beginning - CIAJ

Summary: A few years after the first kaiju came throught the Breach, more breaches appeared throught out the world focing almost each nations to make their own line of defense. In England, 4 SAS soldiers decided to join the Jaeger program. Throught hardship and derermination they built themselves a reputation and are known the TF-141. Camille, or Scotty to her friends, is freshly new arrived J-tech at the Plymouth Shatterdome. She has no trouble blending in the new crowd and make friends easily, even with the Rangers. But there might be something more going on between her, Soap and Ghost. Life is about to change for all of them, not in a way they expect.

Warning: None

Words: 4.2k // AO3 // Masterlist

A/N: Welcome to my new AU of an AU where I get to be a huuuuge nerd about Pacific Rim because, this my favorite movie of all time! This will be a multiple chapters project. I don't know how long or how it will evolve, but it will be fun to find out. Here is some more info I have about it before I started to write if you are curious. Althought some might change as I write as the post was sort a draft, take it with a grain of salt :)

Feet hanging down, she looked at the jaeger's core from a distance. It was always a sight to be seen. Although the Mark-4 didn't have the same feelings as the nuclear core of a Mark-3, Scotty was still in love with it. A quick glance at her watch, she had half an hour before her shift would start. She grabbed a piece of food from her tray and kept eating in silence. Or as much silence the maintenance area provided with the drilling, metal clinking, shafts and other mechanical engines roared in a harmonized cacophony.

Scotty had been transferred to the Plymouth Shatterdome six months ago. They needed extra hands and she proposed herself. After all that happened almost a year prior, she needed a change of everything. A new place to sort of start anew. At her arrival, she was assigned to Bravo Tanker, one of the two Jaegers of the TF-141.

TF-141 was composed of 4 ex-SAS members who joined the Jaeger Program a few years back. Johnathan “John” Price had been the oldest member as he was part of few people who piloted Mark-1. Lucky enough he didn’t for long before moving to Mark-2 who were slightly safer and didn’t leave terrible health consequences on his body.

Simon Riley, mostly referred to as Ghost by many, was a rather mysterious pilot. His academics, results and training were very honorable and an example to many. One of the best pilots. However the mystery around laid in the fact that the man would always be wearing a balaclava for a reason no one knew. He kept his past a secret to everyone and was a man of few words in his free time. He wasn’t cold or asocial per se, but he kept some interaction to minimum. But once you knew him, you would be surprised that he had a sense of humor and quite enjoyed his little army jokes.

Kyle Garrick, nicknamed Gaz by Price quote “he doesn’t talk much”, wingman of the ex-captain, he had a great tactical mind who often proved to be a great asset during deployment, he also had very good academic records. He held the record for the longest simulation training; twelve hours. Stable and came out feeling perfectly fine. He had a quick reaction time and would find solutions to many problems in a few seconds. He was reliable and someone you rather liked as a friend than an enemy.

John MacTavish, alias Soap, a name he got from his time in the military, was the fairly newer member. Always eager to jump in the cockpit to defeat the Kaijus. But his playful demeanor is only the tip of this iceberg. Under his optimistic charm was also a tactical man who knows his explosives and weapons like the back of his hands. He learned a few tricks from the J-Techs on how to fix small issues on the Jaegers if needed.

Price and Gaz were pilots of Bravo Brawler, a Jaeger made to fight in a close combat ranger, but was also armed with four missiles, two in each arms for distance. Soap and Ghost, Bravo Tanker, Jaeger build to endure hard blows and take repeated hits. Which means a very high maintenance mega weapon sadly.

On her first time at the Shatterdome, she quickly blended in with the crew. Two weeks later, the chief engineer took her under his wings as an assistant. He was impressed by her knowledge and there was a little something that felt that she knew more about Jaegers than she let know. Although she was very capable of fixing any part of the mecha, Scotty was assigned to the Conn-Pod or cockpit. Again, she surprisingly had a very good knowledge of everything that happened there. Being a J-Tech, Scotty never really expected to befriend pilots, it felt like an honor. For a while, she admired the TF-141 from afar, or close in her case when she would help them suit up or briefly pass them as she entered the cockpit for maintenance after their deployment, never really pushing herself to get to know them better. Until her third week at her new home.

She was elbow deep in grease, trying to fix one of the enormous ankle joints till she heard someone clearing his throat in the back. Hands still inside the construction, Scotty looked over her shoulder to see who it was. Mohawk and bright blue eyes stared at her with a smile. It was Soap. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, I’m just looking.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the metal, eyes looking inside the opening.

She stared at him a little longer before shrugging it off. “What would a Ranger do down here with the mechanics?”

“Learning. Is that bad? Never heard the other complain before.”

“Not at all.” She chuckled. “How much do you know about this big girl? For a Mark-5 she is impressive, don't you think?”

“Aye. Very smooth riding if I compare it to the Mark-4, but not by much, and a not so different interface. Definitely better than Mark-3.”

Scotty finally loosened the bolt she was working on, almost the size of her head, and turned to face him. “Someone seems to know his jaegers. That’s interesting. Ever been in a Mark-3? You don’t strike me like someone who did.”

“Are you saying I’m old, bonnie?” He scoffed. “I did, in during my training. They feel so clunky once you try a newer model.” And this is how their friendship started. Nerding over Jaegers, then went out to talk about what they did before the program.

Eventually, after a few days Soap invited her to sit with the rest of the team. Scotty was a little surprised by the invitation and honestly wasn’t too sure about it. She was so used to eating with her crew. Not that sitting next to the pilots was anything special, in the cafeteria you took the first seat you could find. It was talking with them and being so friendly that she wasn’t too sure; she didn’t want to look like she was privileged. It was some friends who pushed her to accept because honestly, it was obvious. They had seen her talking for hours with Soap, also opening up more to Ghost. It was more than just the regular crew and check up talks nowadays. She did accept the offer and was thrown under the spotlight by Soap who introduced her more informally to Price and Gaz. Because of his background, Scotty felt like she wouldn’t never be as friendly as she was with the Scotman towards Price. An old captain deserved more respect, but it wouldn’t stop her to warm up and tease the man along with Gaz. Gaz had been easy to befriend just like Soap. Being around the same age was actually an advantage. That and he was a nice person in general. It was nice to have some deep conversation of all and nothing during calmer moments. Just like now.

Gaz took a seat next to her, his tray in hand. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest.” Scotty moved slightly to the side, although there was enough space for ten people around them. “Aren’t you and Price supposed to train?”

“Finished. I swear he really wanted to push the limits today, I’m done and hungry.”

She glanced at her watch again. Another ten minutes. Her eyes trailed to her own tray, half full. She grabbed whatever dessert was proposed, some strange sweet thing that resembled cake, but didn’t have inviting colors. Yet it tasted good. She handed him her left over. “You need more than I do. Make sure you have enough energy.”

He laughed at her remark, yet appreciated the extra ratio. They kept talking for a little longer till they sat in silence, enjoying the calmness. Her time was up and she had to leave to start her shift.

Her shift was assigned to the Conn-Pod today. Last Bravo Tanker’s deployment had been a little rough. A very hard blow to the head left some damage to the moving system. On the report, it was said that the left leg remained stuck for two minutes. It didn’t sound long, but in the middle of a fight against a twenty-five thousand tonnes monster, it was an eternity. Ghost and Soap were able to unjam it, but to say they didn’t feel fear for a hot second would be a lie. Toolbox at her feet, Scotty engaged the safe switch and jumped in the movement center, wiggling a little between the pipes and gears to reach the troublemaker. Her eyes looked one more time at the tablet. She analyzed the graphics and waves. The malfunction was definitely mechanical in origin as there was no misalignment registered from the pilots. Their neural handshake was almost perfect the whole time, even after the damaging blow and the panic that followed. They remained in control without flinching. It read the most beautiful thing. It brought back some memories, memories that she quickly pushed away and focused on her task ahead. It took five minutes to find the culprit; a rode had broken off from the walking mechanism and lodged itself between gears. From the look of it, it eventually broke off under the pressure, releasing the jammed leg. Not without damage. They would have to install a new rod and change two gears. That should take a whole shift or two, if they didn’t have the pieces yet. It will be a long night.

It was five in the morning when her head hit the pillow. Every muscle was painful and sore. The mattress was so soft and welcome. At least, this would be her last night shift for a few weeks and today was her day off. As usual, she would sleep a few hours before going on with the day. Maybe nap later depending on how tired she was.

Her alarm bipped around ten. With a groan, Scotty woke up and jumped in the shower. She didn’t stay long to ratio the water, but long enough to wake her up and give an appeased sensation to her body. She grabbed her phone, quickly looked through her messages. Some quick replies to her family, more technical answers to her colleagues who need another refresher on what had been done last night and where they should pick up. Mindlessly walking towards the hangar bay, always looking on her phone when she bumped into someone. “I’m sorry!”

“Don’t be.” Ghost replied unphased. “You shouldn’t look at your phone while walking though.”

“I was almost done really.” She shoved the device in her pocket. Soap popped behind Ghost.

“Where are you going like that, sweetheart?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t call me that, sunshine. Well I’m off for today, I was thinking of going into town. Get some fresh air. What’s your plan?”

Ghost brushed off the casual flirting of these two. They had been at it for a few weeks now and he didn’t mind. “Training. As usual.”

“Tanker will be under heavy repair for another day at least. If anything happens, you won’t be able to deploy yet.” Scotty informed them.

“That’s why I was thinking after our workout, maybe we could all go out for a drink? Price and Gaz were up for it.” Soap smiled. “What about you?”

“Sounds good, count me in!”

The shatterdome being a few kilometers away from any big cities made the small town that was nearby thrive with all the workers. While the main base provided lodging and food to everyone, the town did provide the recreational aspect allowing the hard workers some possibility to unwind. Despite the Kaijus’s attacks, the civilians went on with the regular days. They became part of the routine. People would still go to work, go out with friends, do their grocery shopping, take a drink at the table outside the cafe as if nothing was going on. Of course when the alert rang across the land, they would all run to the nearest bunker and wait till the Jaegers took down the beast. For now, they could enjoy one of the rarest sunny days in a long time. Scotty wandered around without a goal. All she needed was to be out of the overcrowded building. Hear other sounds than drilling, welding, clanking. The birds, the kids' laughter, the car, the casual discussion of strangers. A change of scenery. A little after noon, she stopped in a restaurant to grab some food and then went on to walk along the coast.

There, it was truly calm. Only the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Sat in the sand, she allowed herself to close her eyes and let this moment last for as long as she could handle it. The breeze was soft today. Scotty shifted her position to lay down and look at the sky before closing her eyes again. It wasn’t the best idea but…

She woke up to the sounds of seagulls fighting somewhere. Half a mind present, her watch showed five. She must have slept for a good two hours! Her phone buzzed. It was Gaz saying they were on their way to their regular pub. They should be in town in half an hour. She decided to make her way there. She dusted off the sand on her clothes and returned to the center of the town. The sun was slowly setting in the distance, painting the sky in a bright orange blue color. Reflecting on the water that slowly disappears as she makes her way through the small street between the buildings. If at first she had been a little intimidated by forming a friendship with the TF-141, now she actually appreciated their time together. It brought back good old memories.

This was the seventh day of her day shift schedule and it was coming to an end. Not her best day in terms of repair. Bravo Tanker had been a breeze to fix recently thanks to the very little visit from kaijus. Bravo Brawler was a whole other story. A lot of the pieces needed to fix her had been late on the delivery and the Marshal wanted her fixed since yesterday. Didn’t like the idea to have one less Jaeger operational in case of. Their Shatterdome was yes the main base of the well known TF-141, but also three other Jaegers. It wasn’t like they didn’t have the ability to operate with one less team. But out of the three, two were new hence why he would rather send more experienced pilots with them than face the monsters alone. Because of this, Scotty had been pulling extra hours on fixing Price and Gaz’s jaeger. Help that was well appreciated by the crew who was being pushed in the back all the time. A quick chat with the person in charge of the night shift to explain what still had to be done and Scotty was on her way to her quarters. She could feel the sweat and grease sticking on her skin. She wanted a shower, now! However on her way there, she made a little detour to the Kwoon Combat Room.

As she walked toward it, she caught the noise of a familiar training. Someone was there. Maybe she could just look a little. Hidden by the corner, she leaned to see who it was. Ghost and Soap were in the middle of the mat, readying their stance from what looked to be another round. She watched as they began. Just for a minute or two she told herself.

Scotty didn’t mean to peek for so long. Neither peek in general. But watching them dance on the training mat, the sounds of the wooden poles knocking on each other, the soft silence except for a few grunt here and there, it reminded her of her pilot days. Drifting with someone was the most intimate thing of all, something beyond anything else. It had nothing to do with the romance or things you would keep behind closed doors. Being drift compatible wasn’t about this. It was about letting someone inside your head, share their memories, let them see your memories. All your secrets are bare to them to see. You had to trust your co-pilot more than anyone else. A wave of sorrow passed through her body as she was reminded of her previous partner. How they had such a strong connection, how she could still feel his fear when he died, how his last words were to his wife and kids. It broke her to be the one to tell them and not him. Yet as she cited his words, his voice echoed in her mind. This was the reason she wasn’t able to drift after that. She tried, but the memory was too strong, no matter how hard she tried to keep it out, it crawled back. She was always out of alignment with other pilots to the point that she simply gave up. Not wanting to stop helping against the Kaijus, she took a job as J-Tech and eventually landed where she was now. It was for the best that she didn’t know if she would ever let someone else in her head ever again.

It was obvious that Ghost and Soap were a good match. Her eyes could follow each of their attacks and parry with ease and it was easy to see that they knew each other well. She had also seen Price and Gaz training, it was the same. However there was something a little more about the pilots of Bravo Tanker. A detail she caught as easy as their fighting style. They had something going on between the two of them. That didn’t stop her from letting her eyes linger on their muscles. Who knew that a tank top and sweatpants would be so sexy. They were both a sight for sore eyes. Her cheeks turned into a soft pink as she caught herself thinking of that.

The room became very silent. Scotty realized that they had done their training and were looking at her. A wide smile on Soap’s face and she swore maybe on Ghost but it was hard to see behind his balaclava. “Enjoying the show?” The Scotsman laughed.

“Oh hm me? No! I mean yes. But not how you think!” She stumbled on her words.

“Relax, we won’t eat you.” Ghost shook his head.

As much as they were all up to keep going with the conversation, the alarm went off. A sound they knew too well. A kaiju had crossed the Breach. Ghost and Soap didn’t waste a second and hastened to the Drivesuit Room. Brawler still being under maintenance, they were the only available at the moment to support the other teams.

It took them less than twenty minutes between the suit up and being waist high in the water. One advantage of Plymouth Shatterdome was that it was enough on the coast, Jaegers could directly walk in the ocean, they didn’t have to wait to be dropped far away by helicopters. “What now, Ghost?”

“We wait.” The Brit contacted the other team to know their status. They were in the area also waiting for any sign of Kaiju approaching. Both Jaegers’s radar bipped steadily. They hated these moments. Standing still, being a perfect target for surprise attack. The LOCCENT kept updating them on the possible location of the threat. It was moving fast, coming South-East of their position one moment and then full East, back to South. Then West! Whatever this Kaiju was doing it was all over the place. They looked in all directions hoping to visually see something that radar had not picked up, in vain. The water remained calm.

“I don’t like that, Simon. Why is it moving so-” Soap was interrupted when their comms was flooded by the other team. They had a visual two klicks away from them. The water was slowly rising while advancing. It was their target! The Jaeger reacted fast, running towards it ready to attack. But as soon as they were in range to punch it, it slipped away quickly. The old Mark-3 was a little slower to respond to the pilots change of position; they didn’t have time to react to the clawed hand that pierce through the water behind them. It clenched, ripping all the back’s plates. The pain receptors connected to their suits send a signal so strong they surprised themselves to still be conscious. However, damage had been done.

“Bravo Tanker we are done! All systems are not responding! What the fuck! We need back up!”

“On our way! Stay put!” Ghost acknowledged. He lifted his right leg, starting to run in unison with Soap and the mecha eventually responded to the speed they wanted. They wouldn’t let the monster attack a second time. At the same time, Ghost and Soap locked the right arm to punch the creature. Their Jaeger reacted accordingly, landing a powerful blow at the top of its head. The Kaiju wailed before being engulfed under the water. They punched it a second time. On the third, the beast dodged by swimming away, its tail hitting the leg of the Jaeger. They didn’t flinch. Bravo Tanker was ready to chase it, but revised their plan when they saw the wake it made as it swam back in their direction with a lot of speed. They braced themselves for the attack, well aware of what to expect. The claws screeched on the metal, automatically the two pilots were met with a jolting pain on the chest. Nothing they couldn’t handle.They shook it off repositioning themselves to return the favor.

‘‘Hull is badly damaged, but still holding!’’ Soap shouted, dismissing the alerts that popped on the screen.

‘‘LOCCENT we need back up! I don’t know what this bastard is made of, but it is shredding us!’’ Ghost demanded on the comms.

At the Shatterdome, the Marshal weighed his options. He could send another Jaeger or two, but the more, the longer it would get for them to reach their allies. Could Tanker hold till then? However this Kaiju rendered one of his mecha inoperative with just one slash and his most resilient Jaeger was already fighting. ‘‘Tanker hold, help is coming. … Brawler, I want a fast deployment!’’

Bravo Tanker dodged another attack by a few meters. To last till back up, they used the blade weapons. With them they had been able to hurt the beast, but quickly it destroyed one of them. This fight was straining the pilots, physically and mentally. ‘‘I swear when Price shows up.’’ Ghost groaned. He could feel the sweat rolling down his forehead, his suit more sticky than usual.

‘‘What will you do when we show up?’’ The ex-captain voice came through the open channel. ‘‘Take a breath, we will handle it for now!’’

Bravo Brawler was being carried by helicopters. Price ordered them to release the cable who dropped them right on top of the Kaiju. The beast was crushed back into the water, wiggled its way out and went for its first attack on the newer opponent. Ghost and Soap only took a minute breather; the bastard was tough and they couldn’t let it win. Two against one was the upper hand they needed. Something the beast realized quickly and decided to hide underwater for surprise attacks. Thanks to their radar, both Jaegers avoided them. It began to circle them. Suddenly jumped on Tanker jaw open ready to take a bite. The fang pierced the Conn-Pod not so easily, but with a secured anchor, its claw dug deep in the chest and neck’s connector. The pilots were flooded by alarms blaring, pain in their whole body and view of the monster’s mouth. Its maw closed further onto the head, bending and crushing the metal. The mechanism which normally held the pilot in place was heavily damaged on Soap’s side. As Price and Gaz closed the distance to remove the beast, Soap was disengaged from the lock system and in the heat of being tossed in all directions, he was sent flying up and down, landing then in the back of the cockpit where the door was. Ghost didn’t have the time to realize what happened. All he felt was the sudden overload of pressure on his brain as he was now the only pilot in control of the mecha. It made him feel dizzy, his movements slowed as he raised his arm to grab the Kaiju and throw it away. With Brawler's help, he was free. Gaz refused to waste another second. He engaged the missile and fired two of them. An option they only want to use as a last resort. The beast was already damaged; this should be enough. Indeed the Kaiju went down in one last screech.

Sure that everything was cleared, Ghost disconnected his side as well before the load would kill him. With a heavy breath, he gave a quick sitrep of their situation, to which the LOCCENT replied they will have a medical team right away. Ghost scrambled through the damaged cockpit and found Soap lay, unconscious. His helmet was broken, blood tainting the suit and floor. ‘‘Soap? … Johnny!’’ He checked his vital signs; they were steady but very weak. He needed help now!

#cod fanfic #call of duty #pacific rim #cod oc #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #oc:camille scotty moreau #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #au:cherry in a jaeger #ghost x scotty x soap #ghoap x oc

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