#harbinger of death

[evermore-grimoire]

The Evermore Grimoire: Fairies

The Banshee was considered to be a harbinger of death and doom in Irish Folklore. She was a fairy woman, a spirit linked to the realm of the dead, and if you spotted her, you'd be praying for the safety of your family because it was likely that one of them would be soon joining her in death. Even if you didn't spot her, the Banshee could signal her arrival by shrieking, wailing or keening, some even believed her shrieking was able to shatter glass. The quality of her voice also varied from region to region. Some described it as 'low and pleasant' which could be used to comfort people or generally just to make them feel good and others as ‘a mix of a wail of a woman and a moan of an owl' which could hypnotise many. Some also took to singing songs to do the work, and put power into it without changing the sound. Banshees also appeared in places where there was great sorrow and pain.

artwork by oreliemartin

[waysingleton]

Death-initely a BAMF

[tenth-sentence]

The Nazgûl were they, the Ringwraiths, the Enemy's most terrible servants; darkness went with them, and they cried with the voices of death.

"The Silmarillion" - J.R.R. Tolkien

[thevulcanbobdylan]

Chapter 15 of Looking Through Glass 🥺

Getting really close to the end now. I've got a little bit of smut for you, followed by a surprise visit from someone we haven't seen since Daybreak.

[clouvu]

Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine

[claraoswalds]

This is a brand new science for me, and I love it. The language of luck. 'Cause what is a coincidence but a form of accident? Two things bumping together unexpectedly. Like you and me.

[yonemurishiroku]

Thinking about if Bianca didn't die, we'd have a lively child of Hades who's so bright, so... full of energy, who believes in everything good and kind whilst simultaneously destroying his enemies with the most terrifying forces to ever exist

and now I'm mad.

[jessamine-rose]

⋆˚♱ଘ Red Sky at Night, Shepherd’s Delight ଓ♱˚⋆

*slides in with more Church AU ideas* May I interest y’all in Priest! Arlecchino x Devotee! Darling?? Do enjoy this sweet story ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

Tw:: yandere, manipulation, psychological trauma, stalking, blood, violence, death, religious abuse, self-flagellation, harassment, MDNI, pls take note of these warnings

Note:: FICTIONAL depictions of religion

♡ 3.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ As with most nations, the Church is the highest authority in Fontaine. This is especially true for the Court of Fontaine, a city that boasts a strong faith in God. However, it is this same faith which has been corrupted by the Church to spin a web of lies, prejudices, and hypocrisies. Still, there is hope for that city, as provided by its head priest Arlecchino.

♡ Not much can be said about her previous life. In the past, she was known as Peruere, a quiet orphan from the House of the Hearth. Raised by her predecessor Crucabena, Peruere followed in her footsteps and claimed to have felt a calling to priesthood. There was a beauty to it, the idea of a child giving back to the Church by bringing its followers closer to salvation. At least, that is how the public perceived her vocation.

♡ In truth, Peruere’s motivations were different. Shortly after her ordination, Crucabena disappeared under mysterious circumstances and her authority was passed on to Arlecchino. Immediately afterwards, she began to reform the Church and the House of the Hearth. She challenged the Church’s falsehoods, eliminated the other corrupt priests, and preached a more compassionate form of worship.

♡ Despite her efforts, however, scars run deep within the city. The children weren’t the only ones harmed by Crucabena; her influence spanned the entire Court of Fontaine, from religious schools to devout families. In the latter’s case, it can be difficult for Arlecchino to reach out to individuals and correct their beliefs. But some have taken to her like a moth to flame, actively seeking out her enlightenment. One such moth is you.

☾⋆｡ ๋

“Excuse me, Father!”

The Church is silent in the wake of mass. Footsteps and voices echo as believers depart to go on with their daily lives. The children are walking through the exit connected to the House of the Hearth, their solemn demeanors giving way to laughter. Only two people remain.

As always, you linger behind Arlecchino, head bowed.

“Ah, ______.” She turns around to face you. “Is something the matter?”

You look the same—shy expression, modest clothing, rosary in hand.

In a quiet voice, you tell her, “I am in need of your guidance. Yesterday, I…can we discuss this in your office? I’ll try to keep it short this time.”

“Ah, of course. Follow me.”

By now, it has become routine for you to approach Arlecchino after weekly mass. She leads you down a hallway and into her private office, her confident gait juxtaposed by your meek footsteps. A few words are whispered to a passing nun—orders to prepare your favorite tea and desserts.

In the meantime, she takes a seat on the sofa and gives you a polite smile.

“Go on. You have my undivided attention.”

☾⋆｡ ๋

♡ If Arlecchino’s trauma led to her disillusionment with the Church, then yours brought you “closer” to God. Technically, there is nothing wrong with your devotion—you pray everyday, treat people with compassion, and derive a sense of solace from your religion. The harm lies in your blind faith, your total dependence on Arlecchino’s spiritual guidance.

♡ While you’ve accepted Arlecchino’s stance on religion, you still abide by Crucabena’s doctrine when it comes to your own religious life. You abstain from all vices. You repent for actions which barely count as sins. You are in a constant state of shame, guilt, paranoia, confusion. She can only imagine just how traumatic your meetings with Crucabena were.

♡ Still, you make for enjoyable company. It is common for Arlecchino to see you in the House of the Hearth bearing gifts for the children—and she can tell the difference between performances and your genuine acts of charity. When you aren’t confiding in her, you inquire about her hobbies, her favorite things, her life before priesthood. There is something so pitiful, so precious about your trust in her.

♡ Which is why Arlecchino is quick to notice a shift in your attitude. It begins with you sitting in the middle pews during mass, rather than your usual spot in the front row. During communion, you avoid eye contact and accept the wafer from her with trembling hands. There is a decrease in your private meetings. Fortunately, there is no need for her to investigate; rather, you provide the answer on a silver platter.

♡ Confessions are a wellspring of valuable information. Be it a direct admission or small details, such encounters have aided Arlecchino in punishing those who commit evil under the guise of virtue. Neither is it difficult for her to deduce one’s identity through their voice and mannerisms. So when she recognizes you beyond the screen, she wonders why you opted for the confessional rather than your usual face-to-face confessions with her.

☾⋆｡ ๋

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned. My last confession was one week ago.”

That is the first thing you tell her. From the center compartment, Arlecchino can imagine you doing the sign of the cross. The ritualistic gesture lends a short-lived grace to your movements, your hands honed by years of practice.

A pause. “Pardon my insolence but I must know: I am not speaking to Father Arlecchino, am I?”

Oh?

“You are not,” is her swift response, spoken in an altered voice. “And why do you ask? Does your confession concern the head priest?”

What secrets could you possibly be hiding from her?

She hears a hitched breath. “No! I just don’t want her to know. So please, what I’m about to tell you…don’t breathe a word of it to anyone else.”

“But of course. And what do you have to confess, my child?”

There is the sound of beads clicking together—your rosary, an old violet-and-black set designed by Crucabena. Arlecchino owned an identical one up until her death.

“These past years,” you whisper, “I have been consumed with carnal desires.”

She sits up straighter. “Desires?”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter. “There’s this person I’ve known for years, and I’ve always looked up to them as a fellow believer. Yet over time, I’ve been plagued with…impure thoughts of them. They captivate me. Their attention brings me joy and anxiety in equal parts. They haunt my thoughts in debauched fantasies. Yet we aren’t even married, much less lovers.”

Who are they?

A spider has taken up residence in a corner of the ceiling. It sits in the center of a silvery web, waiting for its prey.

She clears her throat. “And what is the matter with that? It is true that many view lust as a sin. But carnal desires are natural and not evil as to warrant eternal damnation.”

Silence. Most likely, you are mulling over what she just said; discernment isn’t your strong suit.

It’s just like you to fret over an ordinary crush. But who is this person that ensnared your heart? Do they know you as well as her?

Arlecchino continues speaking. “Moreover, no human is immune to temptation. From what you told me, it is clear that you have made active efforts to suppress your lust. So is it not possible for you to resist this so-called temptation, if not distance yourself from the object of your desire?”

“But how can I resist temptation when its very source lies in the Church?!”

Even Arlecchino is caught off-guard by your outburst. It is followed by your horrified gasp.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

Your next words are spoken in an even softer voice. “It’s Father Arlecchino. She is the one I desire.”

A fly buzzes through the latticed screen of the confessional. It briefly hovers around Arlecchino before she swats it away.

“Ah, I see. Now I understand.”

“She hasn’t done anything to me!” you add quickly. “I swear, it’s purely one-sided. And that is what distresses me most of all. She is a woman of God, dedicated to the salvation of His flock, yet here I am making a mockery of her righteousness.”

“And what do you see in her?”

“Where do I even begin? She’s kind. I know there are people who speak ill of her, claiming she preaches falsehoods, but I’ve witnessed her compassion with my own eyes. The orphans love her. The Church is warmer, more welcoming under her authority. And…”

The fly has taken a liking to the spiderweb. Spying its prospective prey, the spider begins its crawl towards the edge of the web.

You take a deep breath. “She knows of my religious struggles yet has never given me reason to fear her judgment. She is the one who helped me discern my vocation. She is the one who put a stop to my self-flagellation, even though that penance was assigned by Mother Crucabena. She is the one who has reassured me, time and time again, that I am worthy of God’s love. She…”

That is when you burst into tears.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the confessional are your choked sobs and rosary beads. Arlecchino herself remains silent but her thoughts are just as discordant.

Her gaze drifts to her necklace. It is a far cry from Crucabena’s rosary, a long chain from which hangs a silver cross adorned with ornate engravings and crimson jewels. When she presses down on a specific jewel, the pendant separates to reveal a hidden blade.

How long has it been since she struck Crucabena with that false symbol?

“I’ve tried so hard to be good,” you continue between sobs. “All my life, I’ve done my best to resist temptation and abide by the Church’s teachings. So why…? What I feel for Father Arlecchino—it’s disgusting, it’s not normal, it cannot be called love. But I…”

Your voice trails off. In her mind’s eye, Arlecchino sees you kneeling with your head bowed and your rosary looped around your clasped hands. If only she could wipe your tears.

“And I am truly sorry for all my sins,” you sniffle. “Now please, Father, what is my penance? If you tell me to distance myself from Father Arlecchino, then I will do so at once. If anything, I think she’d prefer it; I’ve wasted enough of her time.”

“Hush, my child,” she says sharply. Then, in a gentler tone, she adds, “Give me time to think.”

The fly is caught in the spider’s web. From her seat, Arlecchino watches as the spider bites down on the struggling insect and wraps it in silk, sealing its unfortunate fate.

Well, this was an unexpected answer, but not an unfortunate one.

In truth, she cares little about her vow of chastity. It is but a minor offense compared to those of her fellow priests. As for your attraction towards her, it doesn’t bother her at all. Her own sentiments require further reflection but for now…

“Why not put your desires to the test?”

There is the sound of beads hitting the floor. “Excuse me?”

In a calm voice, she explains, “There is nothing inherently sinful about falling in love with a priest. Rather, the fault should lie in the priest who cannot commit to their vow of chastity. But that, too, can be put into question—after all, nowhere in the religious texts is it explicitly stated that God demanded celibacy from His shepherds. It is for this reason that other denominations allow their priests to marry and procreate.”

“I see,” you mutter. “Though I doubt our Church would permit that anytime soon.”

“Who knows? As for the matter of your penance…like you said, it is impossible to escape the object of your desire. So why don’t you continue your usual interactions with Father Arlecchino? It will enable you to discern whether what you feel for her is truly lust or love. And should you ever confess your feelings to her, she will be the one to instruct you on what to do.”

“Is that all? Surely, there must be another—”

She cuts you off. “That is the only way. It is my belief that you need only desire something with sufficient intensity and God will answer. Or are you doubting my words as a priest?”

Your fearful “no!” puts an end to your confession. Thus, you recite your prayers and leave the confessional. After a while, Arlecchino makes a stealthy exit.

Just as she expected, you are still praying inside the Church. With your dried tears and tightly clasped hands, you make a perfect image of repentance.

Shaking her head, she walks down the hallway and into her office.

The tea table is empty. That will change tomorrow; she already has the perfect choice of desserts in mind. Cakes, tarts, macarons, all of your favorite treats.

The next day, an invitation is delivered to your doorstep. The envelope bears the official seal of the Church of Fontaine.

☾⋆｡ ๋

♡ Since then, Arlecchino has treated you differently. In the past, her religious counsel took the form of reassurances, open-ended questions, and reminders that only you can discern your own fate. But now she finds herself giving you more specific lessons and instructions. She invites you to more tea parties and private events in the House of the Hearth. 

♡ She is also more…physical these days. During mass, she puts the communion wafer in your mouth, a gloved thumb brushing against your lip. On your walks to her office, she places her hand on your back, forcing you to match her pace. At one point, she even pulls you aside and tells you to disrobe so she can see if you are wearing your scapular properly. There is a moment of silence when your scars are exposed, followed by the warm sensation of her fingertips tracing your skin.

♡ However, it doesn’t take long for another issue to arise. One mass, Arlecchino notices that a certain individual has moved to the front pews to sit next to you. This continues for weeks, with him speaking to you before and after the service. You’re clearly uncomfortable around him, and it reaches the point that you mention it to Arlecchino during a tea party.

♡ Quietly, you explain that you are being harassed by one of your coworkers. For weeks, he has been bothering you at work, walking you home from mass, showing no signs of accepting your blatant rejections. Even worse, no one is taking your distress seriously due to his popularity within the Court of Fontaine. Normally, Arlecchino would be quick to eliminate him but she decides on another solution which would kill two birds with one stone.

♡ Her suggestion is that you stay in the Church for a few weeks. It is a convenient arrangement on both sides—the children are already familiar with you; the House of the Hearth has no shortage of rooms; and in the worst-case scenario, it can serve as a trial period for nunhood. In the past, Arlecchino did deem your personality fitting for a life of religious service, though you disagreed on the basis that you weren’t “worthy” of such an important role.

♡ It doesn’t take long for you to adjust. The House of the Hearth is quiet, secure, shielded from outside disturbances. The children are friendly to you, and they all agree that you’d fare well as their caretaker. Best of all, Arlecchino has more excuses to spend time with you—barbeque parties, walks along the sea, meetings with the other priests and nuns, nightly conversations in your room. It feels like home.

♡ One day, you are fitted into a nun’s habit. It looks perfect on you, with a few embellishments to suit your style preferences. Arlecchino personally helps you into the outfit, fixing the buttons and smoothing out imaginary creases. The final piece is a cross necklace identical to her own; she casually reveals the hidden blade and claims it is a self-defense mechanism. When you cast your gaze upon your shared reflection in the mirror, a flustered smile adorns your face.

♡ Still, you are undecided on your “true” vocation. Eventually, you decide to return to your job and think it over. Arlecchino personally escorts you to your house and insists that you keep your cross necklace, if only to replace your “missing” rosary. Once the front door is shut, she casts a harsh glare upon the figure across the street. Later, her children are assigned to keep watch over you and your stalker.

♡ For the next few days, all is well. Your daily life resumes. Arlecchino keeps a close eye on you through her children’s reports and her own inspections. After mass, the two of you enjoy another tea party, and you make no mention of your stalker. When the news reaches the city of an upcoming celestial phenomenon, you eagerly accept Arlecchino’s invitation for a viewing party.

♡ The crimson moon rises, bathing the world in a blood-red glow. While the children gaze at the moon, Arlecchino waits for you in front of the orphanage. Strange, punctuality is one of your virtues yet you’re late. Just as she is about to leave for your house, Freminet frantically approaches her and leads her to the Church.

♡ Red. It’s all over you, and not from the moonlight. The first thing Arlecchino sees is you curled up on the floor in a state of shock. In the heart of the Church lies a familiar figure—your stalker, writhing on the floor as blood pools from his chest. Lynette stands over him, ensuring that he won’t escape, while Lyney tries and fails to console you.

♡ All three of her children are wearing their crosses. Yours is on the floor, its blade exposed and tainted with blood. Lyney is the one who explains the situation to Arlecchino: They heard a commotion in the Church and by the time they arrived, you had driven your cross into your stalker’s heart. He had attacked you and paid the price.

♡ Calmly, Arlecchino tells Freminet to bring you to the orphanage. Once you are gone, she walks up to your stalker and stomps on his head, piercing his skull with her stiletto. Lyney and Lynette are told to dispose of the body, clean up the church, then return to the party. The crimson moon serves as a silent witness all throughout.

☾⋆｡ ๋

“Father, your face…”

As soon as he sees her, Freminet leaves your room and closes the door behind him.

“Freminet.” Arlecchino wipes the blood off her cheek. “That sinner has been dealt with. You may return to the party.”

“Oh? Okay.” He nods, casting a worried look at your door. As he walks down the hallway, one of his hands comes up to touch his cross pendant.

With that, Arlecchino enters your room.

Even in your change of clothes, your visage is painted crimson by the moonlight. Your body is slumped against the bed, knees on the floor. No sounds leave your lips save for short breaths. Tiny crescents mar your arms—a coping mechanism or an attempt at penance?

Wordlessly, she sits next to you and pats your head with a gloved hand.

“Father.” You are the one to break the silence. “What just…”

“That man is dead.” She says it plainly, her tone void of judgment. “He won’t be able to torment you any longer.”

You immediately look up, eyes glossy. “Are you sure?! Did I…?”

In the blood-red moonlight, your anguish is clear as day. Your hands tremble, nails digging into the mattress, before clasping together in a graceless effort to steel yourself. But the familiar gesture does little to calm you, all prayers futile in the wake of your sin.

“This is it. I’m really going to burn in Hell,” you sob. “I didn’t mean to—what should I do, Father?”

This time, Arlecchino spares no warmth in consoling you. She adjusts your body so that your head rests on her lap, letting your tears drip onto her cassock. Her hand remains on the back of your head, stroking your hair.

“There is no need to fret,” she says gently. “Before the moon sets, the Church will be purged of that man’s filth and it will be as though he never appeared tonight.”

You shake your head. “Even then, you…God knows what I have done.”

“Listen to me.” She tilts your face upwards, her expression firm. “All you did was use your cross necklace for its intended purpose—to save yourself from harm. And yet even in the face of evil, you claim to be the one who sinned. None of this is your fault, ______.”

Her other hand caresses your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“Perhaps it is all part of God’s plan,” she muses. As she speaks, she kneels to your level and holds your hands, intertwining your fingers. “We live in a cruel world and it is only in places such as my Church that safety can be promised. Should you take the veil, no other sinners would dare to violate your virtue.”

Your next words are soft, hesitant, filled with disbelief. “Are you saying that I can still become a nun?! That you…you don’t mind keeping me around?”

“And for what reason would I deny you sanctuary?” she asks, her expression shifting to a frown. “As a priest, it is my duty to shepherd God’s flock. And as a person, it is my desire to protect those I cherish. Everything I do is for your own good.”

For once, you are rendered speechless. All you can do is stare at your lap, at your hands clasped together.

When Arlecchino leans towards you, her grip prevents you from drawing back.

“All you must do is listen to me,” she whispers. “Until our mortal deaths, I will be the one to lead you away from true temptation and deliver you from evil. Does it seem agreeable to you?”

“I…I guess so,” you whimper. Nervously, you meet her gaze, your eyes alight with a glimmer of hope. “If it’s you, I can believe it.”

“Good. And remember this always, ______.”

The crimson moon shines brightly, casting a blood-red halo around your savior. And as Arlecchino pulls you closer, your lips a breath away from a kiss, a secret is divulged with the fervence of a sacred prayer.

“God still loves you. As do I.”

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Pantalone

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving other characters or dynamics who are not listed in my masterlist.

…Don’t ask me how many times I broke down over Priest! Arlecchino. Just don’t. To all of the Arle simps out there, I hope I did your wife justice. And may you all suffer from brainrot bc I refuse to be the only one in pain (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

Lastly, lots of love to @diodellet for beta-reading this fic and my mutuals for indulging my brainrot. I hope this was worth the wait <3

Tag an Arlecchino enjoyer!! @navxry @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @ainescribe @vennnnn-diagram @stickyspeckledlight @harmonysanreads @ddarker-dreams

[goryhorroor]

i didn’t think I could get more gay for carla gugino after gerald’s game, haunting of hill house, and even spy kids, but then I watched the fall of the house of usher and I realized I really could.

[pattarainn]

The Dying Leader and the Harbinger of Death's reunion

(Aka Bill Adama’s wife and adoptive daughter 🥺)

[musicboxghost]

I know they're British.

But reading the classic Sherlock Holmes stories, it is still hilarious how often the subjects get themselves into a ✨Situation ✨ because they felt compelled to take a tea break.

[ffredmujkic]

jays story would be a 10000 times worse if she killed her dad she loves her family too much its the biggest conflict of interest her love her genuinely love of her family and the love for her crew.even when he terrifies her even when she sees him for shit father he was she still loves him. i dont think she forgives him or sees him as right or even wants him in her life in the hypothetical they could meet in the middle

Gillion on the other hand

The elders while gil doesnt view them as anyway parental still fill the position it would be so cool of him it would be a Lot. i think he's becoming kinder and letting himself embrace this nuace view of the world that is very good for him his story is all abt unlearning and recognizing the toxic systems in place.But also. He can do it. Theres nothing more reclaiming than killing the people who raised u. It would null his oath he can start to define himself in his long journey of identity kill your parents gil

[anantaru]

𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄

a delusion is said to drain their holders life force so when childe noticed that his time might be over soon, he decided to visit you this one last time.

୨୧ WORD COUNT: 4.5k

୨୧ WARNINGS: angst, fem! reader, mentions of death/afterlife, character death, n.sfw, unprotected, c inside, crying, true love.

love, an intense feeling of deep affection towards another individual.

now, with that in mind, what was love to ajax? the thought whirling through his head. Was it perhaps, waking up to the delicious aroma of freshly made pancakes in the morning? or what about the scent of cold rain on a charming summer night in inazuma?

when he was a small boy, ajax was frightened and unsure of himself, yet regardless of his timid nature, he always had dreamed of becoming a renowned adventurer in his hometown, someone who'd go on dangerous trials, travel the world and experience deeds with both his body and soul.

didn't it seem like such an impossible fairytale he would picture himself in? indeed it did to a certain extent, he was nothing but a child with a fleeting dream after all. However, when he was older, it had taken a new meaning to him.

it was the blood thirst that had caught his eye, thriving at the sensation of experiencing both life and death, lusting for dangerous situations only combat could get him out of alive, the thin thread of life sliding past his hands, just enough for him to catch.

the color red meant blood, sweat and tears, while scars were the trophies of the strong, last but not least, danger the way to his numb heart.

unpredictable as he was, in the end he had captured your heart with his authentic hidden self. He could still remember the first time he had seen you walk around morepesok, a small sea side village his family resided in. His heart was leaping in his throat, mouth bone dry and the cold air swirling together with ice and roaming over his warm rosy cheeks.

he could swear you were looking at him, to this day he’d hold onto that fact because how could you not? he was a harbinger after all so why did it seem like you didn't even notice him at first. It was infuriating, more so frustrating. Nonetheless he was going to go through with it, it was only natural for him to approach you, eyes journeying over your figure, determination in his hands.

as far as he was concerned, you were probably just taken aback by the frostiness of the weather, too caught up in keeping yourself warm instead of noticing him across the street. Archons, that's probably the reason why you were so hesitant to talk to him in the beginning, childe tossing all logically accurate answers aside.

sure, because of his pride and prowess, all tasks that he had to accomplish for the fatui were finished with outstanding accomplishments, vowing to never abandon his goals. Highlighting that in any other case he'd find himself a little more focused on capturing his objective, which was you, standing tall like the leader he was.

needless to say, he had used those traits in conversations as well, making him an exceptional charismatic person to be around with. You obviously won't lie to yourself, it was intimidating to talk to someone who held the title of a harbinger, but for some reason ajax was different from the stories you had heard of him.

outspoken as he was, the deep care and affection he held towards his family made your heart bloom, tickling your cheeks with warmth as your gaze locked into his. Trying to look over everything at once, you wondered, where his eyes always that blue? like the ocean with the stormy waves whispering to you.

you remembered his first smile to you, remembering it crystal clear, a simple smile and you were for certain that he was in fact, gentle, kind and had ambitions he deemed worthy to pursue and chase after. Intriguing your curiosity you continued to hold the conversation, noting on how good he smelled, even better than you had expected.

or what about the first night you have spent together? of course, you clearly had it engraved in your memory, being certain that you won't be able to forget about it in a lifetime, holding the mental pictures close to you.

it felt surreal, so passionate that afterwards you kept spending glorious days with each other, illustrious nights full of laughter and emotional connections.

it's been no more than three wonderful years you shared with each other, two very warm hands by your side to catch you whenever you needed it, to hold you when you craved it, to love you for eternity.

destiny has touched your souls and ajax was your soulmate.

this special love couldn‘t be undone, there wasn't a possible outcome in your constellations that would get you separated by will.

childe would keep his work off limits whenever you were together, never entertaining your questions about it, brushing it off and refusing to play into your hands. If it were safe, ajax wouldn't dream of hiding such important matters from you, in his eyes a relationship with secrets wasn't something he normally wanted to pursue.

however, by the looks of how the current events were unfolding, he simply refused to share any confidential secrets with you, being grateful that you quietly accepted his reasoning.

out on the field, where a huge part of his work took place, death had been permanent, unable to be prevented. You bite the bullet and that’s it, you're gone. If they got you, they got you and in his eyes, the best way to go down fighting is to fight for what you deem worthy and for what you stood for, dying with your dignity in your hand.

needless to say, it made your stomach burn, ache and hurt with your chest on fire. Of course you were worried, how could you not? he was your boyfriend and even though you weren't familiar with what the fatui were doing behind the scenes, you sure weren't stupid, noticing how much he suffered, how the pain had taken over his body.

the search in on his face was silent when you perceived his normally orange colored hair tips on his head, now fading grey. His tired eyes as they laid half opened, exhausted, the usual glimmer around the irises gone, missing the glow you fell in love with ever since he first approached you. It long vanished into nothingness, darkness and despair.

you swallowed the developing lump in your throat when suddenly, on a silent freezing night in snezhnaya, you opened the front door of your home to your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe, his facial expression reminding you of nothing but the cold.

"ajax, what are you doing here this late at night? are you okay?"

of all the times he had visited you, something tonight felt off, more so did it leave a bad taste on your tongue with you being unable to decipher it or get behind on why you were having this unfamiliar uncomfortable knot deep inside your gut.

"i'm sorry love, did i wake you?"

there it was, his smooth voice that made you weak on your knees, together with a light smile lurking across his features. If only that were enough to distract from his hand which was pressed against his ribs, shivering in its antics.

"ajax, what happened?"

your stomach churned and you felt sick, there were so many horrible ideas etched into your memories with what could've possibly happened to him. You knew your boyfriend, he wasn't easily defeated, the fear he could inflict on the battlefield made him worthy to be the cryo archons vanguard after all.

your body went taut upon reaching over to his shuddering hand, a red glow splotched around his knuckles. it was blood, his blood? or was it the enemies blood? "this isn't mine, don't worry about it, okay?" there were no shadows nor depth in his once enthusiastic eyes, it seemed terrible simply because of it's emptiness.

"lets get you inside, i'll clean you up." burrowing in, you got a hold of childe's free hand to loop it over your shoulders, helping him stumble into your warm home. An uneasy feeling ate a hole into your stomach, the gleam of your bedroom shining in the dimly lid hallway when you reached it, pushing your palm against the wooden door to make it easier for the both of you to walk in.

at first, you were almost completely sure that he had let his brawling confidence put a haze around his rational thinking, being slightly annoyed that childe wouldn't take better care of himself. His blurry vision moved from the carpet to your eyes, shifting in his footing when you plopped him down on your bed, a shaky sigh bubbling away his throat.

this is what he wanted, you reminded yourself, not knowing that ajax valued your life much more than his own. The fear in your heart grew, weighting the terror against you and your soul tumbling down on it.

It’s no good, it was no good, but childe was aware that he couldn't cheat death as well as time and space, well and fate, which was written and set in stone in his constellations. "hey now." the air in his lungs seem to hold him down, a slow, languid smile crossing the corners of his lips, "don't look at me like that."

"like what?" you blurted out and rolled your eyes, ajax laughed to cover a deep cough that was just about to leave him when he reached his hand out to you, making you straddle him. "like i'm about to die."

you shuddered, not only at his words, but at the mere thought of a life without him, without your boyfriend and soulmate, best friend and lover. You placed your palms on his cheeks, the skin under your fingers being slightly rough but gradually warming up from your familiar touch.

"don't say that."

as it was, those words seem to hold no reaction to him, his arms holding you close to his body, fingers brushing across your stomach. "i want you to know that when i'm gone, you will be taken care of. You have my word." a beat, growing faster in his heart, grasping and aching onto his soul when he noticed the sudden welling tears appear in your eyes, harsh and bitter sweet, running down your cheeks.

ajax absolutely despised making you cry, viewing it as a sin that had to be punished. He felt trapped, like an actual suffocating feeling unable to escape.

"don't cry please, not now."

there was something he didn't tell you, off and away, something he couldn't bring himself to voice to you while listening to the sound of your breathing. Ajax heaved a shaky sigh, forcing himself to smile and rest his forehead against your own. It hurt so much, his heart was screaming, he wanted to let go and cry, for once, he wanted to drop his facade and yell into the void until his lungs gave out on him.

his teeth were gritted, feeling how his body ached and tore itself apart from the inside, bracing his hands on your garments to pull you closer to his chest, to share your body warmth because maybe that will calm him down, maybe that will take his mind off the inevitable.

it was embarrassing, really. Tartaglia, the eleventh fatui harbinger being scared to die, to vanish and turn into dust. He thought he heard voices, words that asked him, 'does heaven even exist?' and if it does, was it really as beautiful as people made it out to be? Or was it from the start, only a social construct to give people false hope, to ease their mind and prepare them for death, for disappearing forever.

tiredness crept into his bones, washing the fear from his mind and now the world wasn't so much tilting as it was in slow motion with you in front of him, holding him and caressing his figure. Without thinking, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck, drawing you to his lips, his softness covering yours in a firm embrace.

you returned his call, as if the world stood still for a mere second, a tiny moment when you talked without words, exchanging reassurances without saying anything and taking care of each other in ways you were so very much familiar with. The kiss melted into something else, it grew and yearned for love.

"wait ajax, i should check up your wounds first." in a desperate attempt, you hoped he understood your mumbling against his plump lips, you drew your breath back, holding it in when you brushed the residue of your tears away. Preparing to get up he held you down with his arms, forcing himself to laugh a little.

"i'm fine i promise, the blood on my jacket isn't mine." low and quiet, his voice showed itself to you, so kind, as he turned his attention back to you without waiting for an answer. "promise me you‘ll take better care of yourself in the future." you lectured him, the space on your bed remaining empty before he beckoned you to properly lay down with him, you following suit.

"i promise."

for childe, it felt like a door deep inside of him shutting down, locking out his worries so he could enjoy and indulge in this moment with you, cherishing every last touch on his body. Now, the both of you were a tangle of arms and legs crossed together and melting your lips in one, childe added his tongue to map you out and engrave your taste beyond death.

your clothes collided with each move as you helped each other get out of the annoying garments that kept hiding your skin. First, his jacket had to go, drawing it down his arms before getting rid of his shirt as well, eyeing the tiny splotches of blood on the material and making a mental note to wash it for him later.

childe‘s fingers unzipped your dress, lazily throwing it on the floor with the current scene being over in a few flimsy seconds before you found yourself bare for each other, fondling with your bodies but keeping it light, almost as if you were made out of glass, threatening to break into a million pieces beyond repair.

"you're everything to me, i want you to know that." the heated whisper vibrated over your body when you pulled yourself on top of him, placing each arm next to his head to place yet another kiss on his sweet lips. "since when are you so poetic, mister harbinger?" your spirit alone made him laugh, raising his brow at your words.

"that's a new nickname, do you have another one?" he gathered you in his arms, rubbing soft circles and lines on your back and slightly dragging your hips against his erect member. "I have quite a lot, you know that." biting back as always, you returned with sassiness, being aware that he couldn't get enough of you.

belonging to someone, having a person wait for you at home was something childe never knew he needed, nor deserved. Before anything, he occasionally thought he was dreaming and hallucinating, how did he possibly get so lucky with you? his mind swirling with afterthoughts.

"remember all those promises we made?" his question came sudden, but you didn't mind, tilting your head a little before brushing your thumb over his lips, "of course, you said you're going to show me inazuma." trailing his eyes like a loosened shadow over your features, he hummed, flickering his lashes back to you.

"please give me your word that you'll keep this promise to me." the tendrils of his breath on you made your skin tighten, shiver under his fingertips as you closed the distance, planting a tiny smooch on him, "of course silly, Inazuma is ours to explore." eyeing him with cheerfulness and joy, you patted his head, his face glowing in the dimly lid room, taking your attention.

everything was silent now, blue eyes focused when he traveled his hands down to where your bodies met, helping you rise yourself up before aligning his erect cock with your hole, slightly repositioning himself in a better angle when he grounded you down, leaning his head back to savor how your walls fit around him.

with that, ajax didn't allow you any chance to move nor adjust yourself when he tackled all the sweet little places with his stiff length, rubbing your walls expertly. The sensation of wanting to have him closer to you tormented your mind, sensually working your hips on him when you engaged him in another sloppy make out session.

a trace of sweat embedded his strong chest, dancing over his aching muscles as he began to rut himself into you, meeting your tempo halfway and complimenting your rhythm. "i love you." he muttered automatically, his orange hair strands hiding his features as you brushed them off his face, tenderly kissing his temple, his nose and his cheeks, haltering right above his lips, "i love you too, ajax."

you could barely move an inch before his hands rocked you back and forth, a smile of satisfaction crossing his lips and turning him in a haze of passion, breathing in languid strokes. Your tiny whimpers and moans were music to his ears, your hips rolling on his heavy cock and feeling you clench down on him ever so often, both gasping and filling the room with pure sin.

his eyes watched your every reaction carefully, feasting on your body working wonders on him. Childe adored how extremely reactive you were to everything, whining and sobbing uncontrollably whenever he'd push his hips up abruptly without a single warning beforehand. You hovered over him yet he was the one in control, he held the authority and knew how to make you scream his name.

his jaw gaped open when his breath hitched, getting stuck in his throat, seeing you unravel on him. Leaving his hands right above your bouncing breasts he squeezed down and kneaded the warm flesh, rubbing his thumb over your erect nipples. You looked just as desperate as he did, fucked out and possessed by lust, quivering and wording all those filthy sounds to him.

"come on, give me more, i need more." taunting you, he continued to wreck havoc through your body, drilling his cock into you as you leaned forward, planting your hands on his chest before riding out the ache in your core. "it’s too much ajax." you soothed him with attention he yearned for, your walls suckling on his throbbing erection and keeping him there.

one of his hands wiggled away from your breasts, branding it right above your stomach so his thumb would have the best access to your clit, teasing your tiny bundles before sinking down into the flesh with you being unable to describe the intense bliss you were experiencing right now.

the tension in you turned your vision white and blurry, lowering yourself once more to kiss him starvingly, you wanted to touch him further, mark him up and leave pretty bites on his muscular body. His darkened eyes met your lidded ones, grinding back and forth his length and prolonging your limits a tenfold. Almost painfully, you felt the little twist in your stomach unravel, preparing to snap open.

"i fucking love you so much." a faint tremor overtook him, hiding a tear. Thankfully, the strength of his arms never left you and gained control over the situation when you became more than spent, body sore and aching, not to mention how your irritated cunt was sobbing uncontrollably, fluttering around his girth and drenching his balls.

looking right back at him, you hissed when he practically used you as his own personal cock sleeve with every inch of your body losing on control, clenching down on him. "I love you more ajax, i love you so much." you trapped your bottom lip in between your sharp teeth, drawing out your moans in harsh pants when the bond in your stomach broke, calloused hands prancing you up and kneading your tender flesh when he suddenly forced you down, stilling his tempo completely.

his attractive grunts filled the room, followed by a cry of your pleas when you noticed how his cock prodded on a shivering spot repeatedly, being the turning point when you released on him, a blissful expression plastered on your fucked out face when you dropped your body on his chest, hiding your head in his neck.

ajax Inhaled sharply, your drenched cunt convulsing and squeezing him dry when he poured himself in you, a hidden groan drawn out of his chest. You whined at the feeling of his warm cum smearing your velvety walls, overflowing and dripping down on both of your thighs and sheets. Your tear stained eyes and whimpering voice was a nice addition to his afterglow, being so fucking grateful to you it ripped him to shreds.

a self satisfied hum left him and in truth, childe couldn't be happier, he wanted, no, he needed to experience this just this one last time before it was too late. The stickiness of your fluids sputtered all over the bed when you got up, plopping right next to his aching body.

you adjusted yourself, his rough pants surging a small inch of pride in you. "I haven't seen you this out of breath in a while." you teased, catching and securing him in your arms, pushing him against your chest. Childe embraced you back, "hey, careful now, you're being too confident in your speech." rolling your eyes back at his sassy response you kissed his head, nudging yourself close to him.

"i want to stay like this forever." he winded himself not to return an answer to you, brushing his fingers on your exposed damp back to get you sleepy.

"when we're in inazuma, I want to draw a fortune slip." your giggle was infectious, soothing his rough skin with your sensual hands. "and we need to go to the publishing house too." your gaze was into the far distance of your thoughts, unseeing but fixed on the imaginary future you had drawn in your memories.

"we'll do whatever you want to do." a surge of reality coursed through his veins, squinting his eyes to near black, mouthing the rest of the words silently without you being capable to see them.

three words, eight letters, with his fear becoming more tangible, a living force creeping over him like a hungry beast that was unable to be satiated. Immobilizing his thoughts.

by the time you calmed your breathing, you fell in a deep slumber with him gathered in your arms. Without your knowing, childe was still very much wide awake, his muscles pulling and straining without a conscious effort on his part, beginning to carefully slip out of your comfortable hold.

before anything, he grabbed his underwear to put it back on together with a comfortable jacket he had left at your place a while ago, holding onto the bed frame to get up and walk towards the balcony, opening the door. The fresh cold breeze made it much easier for him, a sense of nostalgia roaming in his veins, snow exhilarating the slow change in the air around him as he tensed.

everything was planned from the start, it was the only way it all made sense to him and even though it wasn‘t supposed to go this way, dying shouldn't feel this good, but it somehow still did.

in the beginning, he knew that the delusion would one day cause his death, would drain the energy out of him until his body started to dissolve from the inside. He had to admit to himself that utilizing the remains of deceased gods and other powerful beings was not passed on without punishment, being a mere human only fed into said factor.

delusions were the key to victory, to succes yet the side effects were potentially equally dangerous to the individuals who dared to use them on themselves to enhance their strength.

adrenaline, endorphines, all of it dashed into his veins as he stepped outside, letting the freezing air of snezhnaya eliminate his body heat, drying the sweat on his skin. Ajax wondered if you could bear to never see him again, if he indeed made the right decision to simply not tell you and enjoy the last moment together.

the other day he dedicated his entire time to see that you and his family would be well of, being deeply engaged in a conversation with the ninth harbinger who was responsible for the mora in his nation.

even though he never trusted any of his co-workers, he was confident that pantalone was going to value the pact he made with him. The regrator had a unique understanding of wealth and would always harbor and respect his agenda, giving ajax his word.

how strange, his eyes covered in tears, shining like blue diamonds. In the end, his decision was faster and quieter, more so easier than it probably would've been. There was no point in regretting his way now, unexpectedly coughing up and covering his mouth with his palm, turning it around to see a puddle of blood plastered on his shaking hand.

dying, without a cure, alone, his lifeless eyes rose up to watch the bed of stars fade and shine on the sky. The people of teyvat were fond of the celestial bodies and called them the gifts of heaven. Because in the eyes of the beholder, something so divine could never be seen as fake, unreal and a blatant lie.

with that, childe couldn't suppress a laugh this time, rubbing his eyes. He sniffled quietly to himself, the captured tears in him threatening to break free when they ultimately heavily coursed down his tired face.

he couldn’t hold the fear no longer and fell to the floor in a disheveled heap as his grief poured out in a flood of uncontrollable sobs.

the tragedy he found himself in would surely turn into a myth, a poem or whatever a bard would come up with and in the myst of the darkness it would form into a reminder on how cruel true love could end in this world, something you could normally only find in a tragic novel from inazuma.

with that, upon his last breaths, ajax couldn’t hold the torment no longer, falling on his knees to the ground in a disheveled heap as his pain poured out in a flood of uncontrollable tears, gut wrenching sobs wrecking his body.

regardless of the overflow in emotions he witnessed, his life came to an end and when he was to die, he wanted it to be on his own terms and conditions, attempting to control death in his own twisted way, bleeding out the salt of his soul.

he appeared in front of the gates of heaven to approach his end, his chin trembling, the last torrent surges of energy faded away when he closed his eyes, a last tear dropping and magically turning to ice, finalizing the death of the man who was formerly known as the eleventh harbinger, vanguard of the tsaritsa. Or how you remembered him, as ajax, the love of your life,

the person you called your soulmate.

do not! share, copy or repost my work. ✎ ©ANANTARU 2022

[mymarifae]

i just want to share my thoughts about akito and Death. because even now—even off the back of an event like burn my soul—people STILL talk about him like he's an explicitly depressed, suicidal character whose every action is cause for concern.

i think the idea that akito is suicidal has been floating around for a very long time. and while it's not entirely without merit (more on this in a bit), it's still a misconception. and it really feels like kashika exacerbated the issue. which is unfortunate! it's sad to see such a beautiful song be misinterpreted like this.

now don't get me wrong! kashika is about death. but two things:

1. kashika may have been written for akito, but it's not just for him. it's also deeply personal to ryo haruka. there are certainly similarities and haruryo undoubtedly understood everything akito felt during the events that led up to the crawl green incident, but i don't think it's entirely fair to equate his very real emotions and struggles to those of a fictional character. he and akito share kashika! you can interpret it through either lens, but trying to do so through both is where things start getting messy

2. whiiiiich leads me to my second point. who decided that the only way to interpret kashika and its themes of death is literally?

i think it's pretty common for people to automatically interpret any themes of death literally—or at least very negatively. we're naturally conditioned to fear death, and then we're taught to fear it even more. it's the change. it's the unknown. it's the very idea of an "end." most people aren't very fond of these things! understandably so. but personally? i think the symbolism that can exist behind death is beautiful.

Death is the 13th card of the major arcana. above all else, it symbolizes change (positive change; it's always, always about what's ultimately best for you). Death tells you it's time to move forward; this part of your life is done. there is more waiting for you—new opportunities, new experiences, a brighter, more fulfilling future—but you must be prepared to let go.

the habits and routines you have now? the mindsets that have kept you alive? your current sense of self? whatever it is, whatever Death is asking for, you have to let it "die." it won't serve you anymore. it will only drag you down. and it might be terrifying and you might not be able to comprehend what lies ahead and you might want to kick and scream and struggle, but you can't cling forever. endings are never easy, and sometimes they hurt like hell, but with each end comes a new beginning.

and yes if you've read burn my soul this should all sound very familiar lol:

looking at death from this perspective, kashika and the entirety of find a way out should read a lot more like akito caught on the cusp of a monumental transformation. suspended between "life" (the old) and "death" (the new) so to speak.

up to this point he's been fueled by spite and desperation. two very intense, very negative emotions—but it's an intensity that worked. everyone else on vivid street had years of musical experience, and he had 0. he needed to catch up and he needed to catch up quickly because it's not like he could put the whole world on pause. he could take his time to learn the basics, sure, but every other vivid street musician would continue improving and growing while he did that. there would always be a gap between him and Them.

unless... he worked harder—WAY harder—than all of them combined.

and maybe that wouldn't do it either. maybe he would be stuck in place forever, always playing catch-up, always struggling to stay afloat, always being left behind. he knew this. and he knew the amount of destruction he'd end up inflicting upon himself if he went down this path. but in his mind, it was okay. it was worth it. because he'd rather die endlessly pursuing what he loves most than live not trying at all.

but in find a way out, when facing off against his old bullies, he starts to realize that he was wrong. he's not just stuck in place. he bridged the gap a long time ago, and he almost didn't even notice. and where he's going now, spite and desperation are the wrong emotions to sing from. he needs to let the unhealthy, extreme mindsets die, but also it's hard to let go of something when you would have given up a long long long LONG time ago without it.

but with time, and enough poking and prodding from ken and luka, he does it. he lets go. he lets the old parts of him die, and he passes on to the next stage of his life.

akito's character arc has always been about growth. improvement. learning. Becoming Better. and not just in a musical sense although Yes That Is A Huge Part Of It. his arc is also about his growth as a person. it's about him becoming more confident, and learning how to be kinder and more patient with both himself and other people. it's about him learning how to let his walls down and let his loved ones in. and to trust that they won't start kicking him to death once they're in there.

it's about him learning to exchange the Spite and Desperation for Passion and Love.

it's about him becoming happier.

which is why it's so fucking startling when people talk about him like he's suicidal and on the verge of a breakdown. like, woah, what?

as i said though, kashika isn't the only source of this misconception and i find more merit in the other sources because they're actual aspects of his character and scenes in the story and not song lyrics that shouldn't have been read so literally in the first place. like, yeah. we've seen a ton of unhealthy behavior out of akito. he's had a very extreme perspective on his place in the world from a super early age, and while the severity frequently gets exaggerated in fanon spaces, the shinonome household isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows.

he's been moody, he's been prickly and abrasive, he's lashed out. he keeps most people at arm's length and builds walls so high not even toya can get through them at first. he had to! he wouldn't have survived if he didn't! like, he was targeted and bullied by a group of adults when he first started singing on vivid street. that is actually a genuinely traumatizing thing to happen to a kid!

so no, i'm not against the idea that akito has experienced depression and suicidal ideation in the past. kinda comes naturally with the territory he ended up in. but that's the key word: past.

i get confused when the idea is dragged into the present. because again! the whole point of his character arc is he's overcome all that PAST adversity! recovery isn't linear but we're not about to see him hit rock bottom any time soon. or ever, actually. you know why? because we've already seen his rock bottom. stray bad dog. that event was his big breakdown moment. that's what opened him up to try to start healing.

we're not getting another stray bad dog. stop expecting another stray bad dog.

he's alright, i promise. he's growing up. he's gotten better. he knows he belongs in vivid bad squad. he knows he's loved. he knows his friends will be there to catch him when he falls. he's always been strong, but now he's even stronger. he's excited for his future, and i think we should be too.

[ink-blot-thoughts]

Playing through Fontaine and the orphans from the heart of the hearth call Arlecchino Father???!?!?!?!

Hoyo, it's okay, just say she's a lesbian and move on.

[ram-to-the-ham]

“Come now, bite through these wires. I’m in waking hell and the gods grow tired.”

- Take Me Back to Eden (Sleep Token)