#to another abyss

[alparlaboratories]

To Another Abyss - Prologue: Saffron's Child

(Chapters -which are usually between 500-1000 words- will be posted daily here first on Tumblr, and will later be posted in 7-8 chapter batches on AO3.)

-

Synopsis: Kanto has changed a lot in the past ten years. The League is no more, and trainers are now only tools for the rich and powerful, either mercenaries or dogs of the government.

Sabrina is the latter. She is to play the role of Gym leader in a sick, twisted mockery of the art she once admired, bearing the name of her childhood idol, a woman who is now wanted across the region. All for the entertainment of Kanto's shadowy new rulers.

It's a role she doesn't mind playing. At least until an unusual challenger comes into her Gym, into the life she's worked so hard to build, and begins to unravel it all.

-

Prologue: Saffron's Child

Two trainers stood across from each other within a large steel cage, seizing each other up. The one on the far right was a short, black-haired girl wearing a black beanie and a hoodie, holding a lit cigarette in her lips.

Pinching the back with her fingers, she began to speak.

"I suppose you know the rules, though I don't mind repeating them," she said with a cold, dispassionate voice. "Three against three; you can use your Pokemon in any way you wish as long as you don't have more than one out at the same time."

She took a slow drag of the cigarette as she backed up toward a small table inside the cage. Atop rested a handful of cardboard boxes, each filled with Pokeballs of different colors.

"The leader, that would be me, will use random Pokemon from these boxes." She pointed at them, looking bored. "They haven't been raised by me nor do I care about their well-being, so don't expect me to go easy on you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, throwing the cigarette to the ground and stomping on it.

"You can try to kill me to win, and in fact I recommend you do. I'm not allowed to kill any challengers. Too much paperwork, you see. But then again…"

Her eyes set on her opponent, a cold, boundless abyss behind them.

"Accidents do happen."

High above the arena, two men sat next to each other on the spectator seats. One of them was somewhere in his forties, smoking a pipe as he stared down with something akin to boredom.

"Is that the new Gym Leader?" he asked. "Could’ve mistaken her for a guy. Is she any good?"

The young man next to him crossed his arms and replied with a soft, chilling voice.

"Well… her physical strength is terrible, her attitude is abysmal and she urgently needs someone to take her down a peg," he listed with a strange calmness. "However… her skill in Pokemon battles is something you don't see every day. And most importantly: she doesn't ask questions."

"And what's her name?"

The young man smiled, turning to look at his associate. His features were soft and handsome, and he wore an all black uniform with a single white triangle badge on his chest. His hair was straight and soft though somewhat overgrown, mostly light brown except for the single tuft which covered his right eye, which was a deep azure. His eyes were bi-colored, the same two as his hair.

"She doesn't have a name anymore,” answered the man, the corners of his lips quirking up into the shadow of a smile. "From now on she's simply... Sabrina."

[milktrician]

cumplane o’ cumplane

[alicenpai]

two lonely rabbits, two hearts beating as one 🐇🖤🤍 (animated gif) now on inprnt !

old sketch from march I decided to finish <3 usually when one of my sketches (intending to become a completed drawing) gets put on the backburner, it never surfaces. I usually have to prioritize other drawings and then months or years pass and once I have time, I lose interest and start other drawings in their place... but I'm glad I mustered up the energy to finish this one, ESPECIALLY since I strongly felt I needed more gothic pieces in my gallery hehe

the relationships between characters in this series are so interesting, because there are so many character parallels. I actually had to change the personality of white alice from the sketch to the final, since I .. think I misinterpreted her story! (so I think it turned out less gothic horror than desired but you know what I'll take this <3) I first read this story when I was 14 and I 1000% BET I'll still be finding nuances and new details in the writing years into the future...

I had a lot of fun with the animation albeit just being a blink animation 😩👍 but blinks can be animated in a variety of ways! in terms of my animation skills, I do consider myself on the weaker side. so if i can integrate more animation frames into my illustrations, it'll help me become more familiar and comfortable with the medium. I especially like the difference in how many frames it takes for dark Alice vs white Alice to blink. I think the blinks came out fluidly and I'm quite satisfied with how this drawing came out!

[k0mmari]

Doodle dump since I’ve been a little silent lol (I am so tired i just wanna finish college already)

Hopefully I’ll be able to write for Abyss Travel Guide some more at the end of this month, but for now, a little teaser(?) for our next Shen Yuan focus ^^ Also maybe I’ll come back to writing locked and loaded (and maybe rethink some things) but I can’t promise anything I really am tired ;v;

Dragon LGQ based on the fanfic ‘What is Found Behind Broken Walls’ by @demoncow97

[molsno]

also since I already talked about made in abyss on here, I find it funny that a series with a "lolicon" art style makes far more striking critiques of the societal structures that enable and encourage the sexual exploitation of children than any of these people blathering on about certain art styles being "pedophilic"

[consultingfujoshi]

some thoughts wrt the two established "romances" in severance so far (burt/irving and helly/mark) inspired by @figmentof who pointed out how irving had to find out mark and helly kissed from the corporate video in s2 e1 and how he must have felt seeing his co-workers' love affair like portrayed like that, and how it ties into the queer narrative at play here which uses workplace dynamics and policies as very clear analogues for real-life prejudice against queer couples. I mean, just look at this:

it's not just documented, but celebrated. used as propaganda for how the conditions on the severance floor have improved. proof that the severed workers are happy. and how even though he is unaware of the sociopolitical meaning of all this, lumon is very not-subtly telling him that what he had with burt is inherently lower and less valuable than this.

irving doesn't even know homophobia exists and yet he is still affected by it, it still seeps into every corner of the way his and burt's romance progresses. burt is positioned as an unacceptable love interest from the jump. irv is actively discouraged at every turn from pursuing it. their friendship is viewed with disgust and apprehension from their coworkers. burt working in a different department that's hated by MDR. dylan himself not being homophobic in the sense he opposes their relationship because they're both men but his attempts to keep them apart still has a parallel sort of prejudice behind it and still ultimately has the same effect as if it WERE driven by homophobia. irving is made to feel perverse for wanting contact with burt. he's told this is for his own good.

and then, just as they manage to overcome that immediate resistance from their peers and escape to a place where they can explore this blossoming romance on their own terms, burt retires. for all it matters to irv, he's dead. and then irving is given the option to live the rest of his life with grief that will never heal, or kill himself too, because there is no reality where they get to be together. that's just the way things are. of course they wouldn't get to be together. he was unreasonable and childish for ever hoping that could happen. this is just the way it goes for innies. he's told to get ahold of himself and not make a scene.

but the thing is, the standards are not the same for all. a heterosexual romance gets upheld as the shining example of success and fulfilment for the severed employees, whilst a homosexual romance is ridiculed and invalidated, and written off as something that was simply never meant to be. and even more importantly to irving, a heterosexual romance is APPROVED OF by lumon, and by extension, by kier. irv held back from allowing himself to even call his and burt's relationship a romance, because his god had told him it was wrong, he followed the handbook, thinking this was what kier wanted, and then finding out after suffering the worst heartbreak imaginable because of it, that this WASN'T EVEN TRUE. it's simply just that someone like HIM doesn't get to have something like this. his love is not the kind of love god wants. he does not approve of irv's love. cynical and manipulative though that approval may be (even within the context of the corporate video, the helly/mark romance is only being celebrated to further the narrative that lumon care for their workers, but the point still remains that it was THEIR romance specifically used to suit this end), when your entire life has been in pursuit of that approval, it must be devastating to learn it was never on the cards for you.

he and burt even used the fact kier met and fell in love with his wife in the same circumstances as them to justify this to each other - and they were RIGHT, god does approve of falling in love with your coworkers - this simply just doesn't apply to them specifically. and if irving needed any more proof that he no longer has a place at lumon, that he's better off not existing at all than existing with this pain that cannot be remedied, pain that won't even be acknowledged for what it is, a symptom of a sickness which plagues the entire severance system, pain that he is simply expected to choke down and get over - this is that proof.

and that's the POINT. they're TELLING us that this is unjust, and there's a double standard. they're using the ways the innies experience romance and the difference in lumon's reaction (lumon being the collective of all the management we've seen, lumon as a singular entity) to burt/irving vs helly/mark to comment on how queer people are not afforded the same level of respect or validation IN REAL LIFE, for their attachments, their love, their pain, their suffering. it is NOT just incidental that irving's romance is with a man. it would not WORK if his love interest was a woman. the POINT is that they are both men and how that puts them at a disadvantage, even if they aren't aware of the prejudices of the outside world, even if they don't TECHNICALLY apply on the severance floor, there are very clear analogues which still end up oppressing them in equivalent ways that they would be suffering if this were a normal workplace in the outside world.

it genuinely sickens me to my stomach that even in a world so divorced from reality and the sensibilities of regular society, a queer couple is still made to suffer and feel inferior in a way that perfectly mirrors their real-life counterparts. how they will never, EVER be allowed to exist in a world where their love could thrive freely and uninhibited - they never get to taste the joy our world has to offer people like them, but they are still somehow subjected to all the pain it has to offer them regardless. it's such horrifically devastating writing. it makes my skin crawl. I can't stop thinking about it

[deikshen]

My feverish brain skidded into a Hualian in the SVSSS universe while Binghe is a disciple

Just hear me out: Shen Qingqiu and his little white lotus Binghe go out on a night hunt... And they meet this exceptional and strong man! He doesn't even need a sword and gets rid of the monster in a couple of blows. But, he doesn't kill it! Inherently kind, he speaks to the fact that the beast is surely a mother protecting her cubs' territory that has been invaded by curious onlookers.

Shen Qingqiu sees the strong man who doesn't need a sword, sees the sixteen-year-old Binghe who will soon fall into the Abyss, turns around and says, "Daozhang, don't you want a job at my peak?"

And the kind daozhang is called Xie Lian, he accepts the job a little surprised by the insistence, and is soon being relocated to Qing Jing Peak. Shen Qingqiu makes sure the man has comfortable rooms, clean, new clothes, and a designated monthly budget to prepare for his classes.

He's a mix between a martial arts and a hand-to-hand combat master! Shen Qingqiu had never seen techniques like his before! Besides, Xie Lian doesn't even use his qi to fight! Luo Binghe will definitely learn a lot from him.

Soon, Xie Lian wins the affection of all the young ducklings. He doesn't just tutor Luo Binghe—even though Shen Qingqiu hired him to do that—he actually tutors all of his disciples as well. Disciples say "Xie-laoshi!" with the same admiration and adoration as they say "Shizun!"

... Except for Luo Binghe.

Well, Shen Qingqiu guesses that it must be difficult for his young disciple to adapt to the changes. And the fact that his new laoshi is always correcting him and teaching him more carefully at his request!! Shen Qingqiu spends entire afternoons with his new friend Xie Lian, listening to the disciples' progress. Xie Lian likes to talk—and is interesting to listen to! Shen Qingqiu can hear from the many adventures of the immortal rogue cultivator with the same fascination as when he talks about monsters. He is a good, interesting and friendly friend!!

Luo Binghe doesn't seem to like him.

Shen Qingqiu can't do much— I mean, Xie Lian is his friend, even if he's a very harsh master to you Binghe! Behave yourself! But Luo Binghe doesn't improve his attitude, dragging his feet, putting down the trays just a little too loudly, fighting with his laoshi as if he has something personal against him. Mmm...

Well, Shen Qingqiu can see that Xie Lian is handsome. Pretty. Gorgeous. Perhaps Luo Binghe is jealous of the competition? Ha! As if anyone could be as handsome as the Protagonist! Besides, after an afternoon of drinking a little wine, Xie Lian simply says about his ascetic cultivation and... Well, Binghe, you won't have to worry about this beautiful man stealing flowers from your garden!

Shen Qingqiu is quite happy about having found an exceptional teacher for his favorite disciple. Binghe has improved by leaps and bounds! He will definitely talk about raising Xie-laoshi's salary.

... And on the other hand, Ming Fan is out on a night hunt with his Ning-shimei. However, damn! The beast has caused a nasty red rain to fall that looks like blood, and ewww. They take refuge as best they can in a small temple, paying respects for invading the territory in this way. It's only when they've lit incense and left some of the provisions at the foot of the stone statue that Ming Fan sees its face, barely illuminated by a silver butterfly perched on the stone cheek, and...

"Shimei... That's... Isn't that Xie-laoshi's face?"

Ning Yingying narrows her eyes. Then, she gasps, astonished.

"Da-shixiong is right!! His face looks just like Xie-laoshi's!! Could Xie-laoshi have been the model?"

Ming Fan wrinkles his nose.

"Didn't Shizun meet him on a night hunt? He let a beast live. I don't think Xie-laoshi be a model. Besides, as a model noble, he'd make such a great fighter?"

The rain of blood behind them stops abruptly. There are no sounds of a struggle with the beast either.

Ming Fan and Ning Yingying let the night hunt continue. They find the beast dead and soaked in blood. Well, less hunting and more paperwork. Ugh.

A silver butterfly follows them back to Cang Qiong without either of them noticing.

Shen Qingqiu (the original goods) is not used to taking outside disciples. It was the normal route: taking a child and raising him as a cultivator from infancy. And while it made sense—it was difficult for a teenager to develop the beginnings of a proper spiritual core optimal for cultivation and subsequent ascension—the new Shen Qingqiu said to himself: well, damn, I hired a teacher, I can get a new disciple!!

Because the young disciple who comes to him is... Exceptional. A teenager—perhaps Binghe's age? Sixteen, close to his seventeen?—with shrewd eyes and a sharp tongue, he demonstrates the knowledge to be welcomed into Qing Jing and the martial and spiritual skill to be welcomed into the sect. He introduces himself kindly and sweetly as Xiao Hua and when Shen Qingqiu allows him to serve him tea and accepts him as a temporary disciple until he demonstrates the totality of his knowledge by passing his exams, Xiao Hua smiles a kind of smile that would give Shen Qingqiu a bad feeling. But oh well!!! He's just another NPC, isn't he?! Why had the System been so quiet anyway?

Xiao Hua shows an impressive amount of knowledge; he is vague with his answers about where he learned it from. Yet he unfolds in music and painting as if it were as easy as breathing, handles weapons as if they were part of him. If it weren't for his disastrous handwriting (A damage to his eyes! Illegible! Chaotic! Full of energy cruel to the eyes!) Shen Qingqiu would have doubts whether the boy had run away from another sect instead of home.

His new teacher, Xie Lian, seems willing to take on the hard work of getting Xiao Hua to write. Shen Qingqiu watches them spend hours and hours practicing without Xiao Hua's calligraphy improve at all. Who would have thought Xie-laoshi would have so much patience anyway! Shen Qingqiu would have given up on that.

Also, with the arrival of Xiao Hua, Luo Binghe seems more... calm? Shen Qingqiu watches him spend a lot of time with the boy, sharing drawings and notes, even if he can't see what they are in the distance. They train together! They whisper between classes!! They sneak away to take books and gossip! Shen Qingqiu is bursting with pride. His sweet white lotus has made a best friend!!! He no longer seems wary of Xie-laoshi, even if his training classes are shorter due to the longer duration of Xiao Hua's calligraphy classes.

Still, there are days when a master just has to relax. Shen Qingqiu keeps inviting Xie Lian to his bamboo house, and they chat randomly— it's fun! Xie Lian's company is a pleasant breath of fresh air! And if Shen Qingqiu is actively ignoring the two disciples spying on them chatting in the distance, well, he assumes these two new best friends have found their own place to enjoy leisure time. And those silver butterflies that usually swarm around Xie Lian? Ah, Xie Lian considers them a pleasant blessing and allows them to linger in his hair while they talk about monsters and history.

Shen Qingqiu is glad to have a friend too! Perhaps, when he finally has to push Binghe into the Abyss... Perhaps he can count on his support, if he tells him the truth—or at least, as much of the truth as he can give.

[kodasea]

Dreaming of you (always)

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

Oh...

Oh my God

I-

[mukubirdy]

i'm barely halfway into the game and I already love these redheads

[alparlaboratories]

To Another Abyss - Chapter 3: Along the way

(Chapters -which are usually between 500-1000 words- will be posted daily here first on Tumblr, and will later be posted in 7-8 chapter batches on AO3.)

-

Kanto has changed a lot in the past ten years. The League is no more, and trainers are now only tools for the rich and powerful, either mercenaries or dogs of the government.

Sabrina is the latter. She is to play the role of Gym leader in a sick, twisted mockery of the art she once admired, bearing the name of her childhood idol, a woman who is now wanted across the region. All for the entertainment of Kanto's shadowy new rulers.

It's a role she doesn't mind playing. At least until an unusual challenger comes into her Gym, into the life she's worked so hard to build, and begins to unravel it all.

-

Chapter 3: Along the way:

The door to Sabrina's room swung open violently. And there under the sill stood none other than Azure, sporting a sickening grin from ear to ear. The girl looked up from her book –a leather volume so old it was practically disintegrating– and her eyes narrowed with pure spite.

"Well?" Azure asked excitedly. "How'd it go, how'd it go?"

It'd been almost a week since that first battle. Multiple band-aids peppered the girl's face, a splint covered her left arm and –as Azure noticed when she rose to her feet– she had a limp as well.

"How the fuck do you think it went!?" she bellowed, clutching at the collar of his suit. "Of course I lost! What did you want me to do with a Pokemon that can't even attack? There were easier ways to kill me if that's what you wanted you cretin!"

Azure stared at her, his smile frozen in place.

"…But you didn't die," he whispered.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing!" Azure hummed, freeing himself from her grasp. "Anyway, it looks like you finally made this place your own, huh?"

In truth, the room looked just as dingy and dilapidated as before. Clearly, Sabrina had only cleaned up as necessary and hadn't touched anything otherwise, with the exception of the small mountain of books around the couch and the many vinyl records scattered everywhere.

"Oh, I just remembered. There's some… business I need to take care of, so I probably won't be back for a few weeks," said the man. "But before that… here you go."

Sabrina instinctively opened her palm as the man deposited something on it, small and metallic. The Marsh badge. It was almost identical to the one given by the original Sabrina, only the golden circle was inserted into a black triangle.

"I'd say you've earned it, wouldn't you?" smiled Azure. "And now… I must bid you adieu."

"W-wait!"

But Azure had already walked out of the room by the the time Sabrina came back to herself. She could do little but stand there, staring blankly ahead.

"What… what the hell!?"

Had he really sent her to die with a smile on his face, or would he have stopped her opponent before it came to that? It was impossible to tell. She couldn't read him at all, which meant for now she couldn't trust him as far as she could throw him.

Azure… just what–?

But before she could finish the thought, the door opened once again. This time, it was that man with salt and pepper hair; one of the Gym's caretakers, she'd figured.

"Ah… there you are," he grumbled. "Master Azure said–"

"I know," Sabrina cut him off. "He'll be skipping town for a while."

"No, not that. He forgot to give this to you."

"Huh?"

The man gave her a folded-up piece of paper and left without another word. Sabrina opened and blinked down at the fancy writing. Azure's, no doubt.

'Dear Sabrina,

How are you? Have you been sleeping well? I sure hope so!

Like I said, I'll be absent for a while, so I wanted to inform you of a few things, just to avoid confusion.

First of all, the maintenance crew–'

Sabrina scoffed; as if there were such a thing in this shithole.

'–accidentally misplaced all the Pokeball boxes with the exception of the red one, so you'll have to make do with freshly-caught Pokemon until my return. Ah, how careless these brutes can be! I can't imagine who would've given them such an order. Oh, by the way, there's a good possibility the police will pass by for a routine raid today or tomorrow, or at least that's what people in the streets say. Still, I'm sure you'll be able to handle it without trouble.

Love: Azure ♥'

By the time she made it to the end, she'd practically crushed the note between her fingers, face red and shoulders shaking with fury.

"That… that son of a bitch…!"

An overwhelming desire to punch the wall washed over her, but after a few long, slow-breathing seconds, that fury was transformed into something more. A sudden determination flared up inside her.

"…Alright," she muttered. "It's alright. So that's how you wanna play, eh? That's fine by me. You can take away my Pokemon, you can throw me at every police officer and smelly punk in the city, it doesn't matter. I won't give you the satisfaction of seeing me fall. No matter how dirty you play, I'll play ten times as dirty! This is my Gym now, so give me your best shot you bastard!"

And that's how the weeks passed. The girl not only wore the title of Gym leader like a glove; she made a profession out of surviving, and an art out of playing dirty.

Little by little as the victories piled up, the rumors spread and both the girl's infamy and her number of challengers grew, bringing with them more and more spectators. The lowest and the highest in Saffron. All of them vile and corrupt, all of them coming to her Gym with the hope of seeing a violent, bloody spectacle.

And that is exactly what they were given, time and time again.

Without even realizing it, without it even bothering her, the girl's day to day became an endless parade of battles to the death.

[peggythestrange]

Binghe's side of the story was different.

Binghe was always a good disciple. He knew his shizun hated him, he perfectly knew that Shen Qingqiu despised his character. But only for his twin brother he tried to keep their relationship at least acceptable.

Binghe was grateful to Shen Yuan for his efforts, he was the only one to actually see him as a person and not a monster. He really was grateful, but could not ignore the hurtful comments and his cruel glances. He didn't know what he did to make his shizun hate him so badly, he didn' know what to do to sole the matter with him.

But growing up he ha developed a strong resentment towards that man. Something he could restrain only thinking about the second shizun, the kind and benevolent Yuan-shifu teaching them under the stern gaze of Shen Qingqiu. Disciples loved him and his methods, his stories were the most interesting and his smile the brightest.

Binghe didn't know that Shen Yuan attempted to replicate an attitude he thought it was enough to save his twin.

It was his first big mistake. Shen Jiu didn't asked to be saved. He never asked to change his destiny and dind't want his brother to risk domething for him. But Shen Yuan tried his best.

After all he loved teaching and his ducklings were what was most precious to him even if he never wasted the opportunity to mock them a bit.

An everyone loved that of him. Especially Binghe loved that, of him.

He promised his whole life that he would never allow anyone to erase that smile from his shifu's face. Shen Yuan was a beautiful angel and he didn't care if his personality was a fake one or if he was really like he shown, Shen Yuna was the only one to show him kindness and respect. He loved him, he loved him so much. And even if he hated his twin brother, he couldn't stop showing his affection towards that man, but it seemed he couldn't even see him. But he would never give up, he would make him happy.

This was his promise.

But then, one day, his shizun came telling that he did not have many days to live and that he did not want his brother to have to take care of him and worry about his sorry condition. Shen QIngqiu left for some days to find a cure for his twin, but came back almost dying, with its deeply damaged qi and internal incurable wounds.

Shen Jiu told Binghe, that he was doomed to lose his mind. With teary eyes he told him he was cursed and he would have tried to kill his brother, he didn't want to, he asked him to kill him.

Binghe knew that this was because he wanted to part him from A-Yuan forever. Because Shen Jiu knew that if Binghe had killed the person everyone knew he hated most, Shen Yuan would not have forgiven him. Shen Jiu exactly knew the game he was playing. And the worst part for Binghe was that... had cornered him and forced him to make a difficult decision.

Binghe eventually chose to kill his shizun, because he couldn't bare the thought to lose A-Yuan forever. Maybe one day he could have told his shifu the truth about his dreadful sin, but only if his shifu was still alive. He couldn't tell the truth to a ghost, could he?

So one day, he ripped his shizun's heart, only waiting for his punishment.

And when Shen Yuan ran to them, what he saw was only Binghe's smile. He couldn't see his tears, he couldn't know his thoughts.

Binghe just wanted to cry and tell how sorry he was for what he did, but he couldn't, because his hands were stained with blood. He gave back to Shen Yuan his twin's heart still punding, still warm, while life slipped away from the arteries.

His shizun played a fair game, he won this battle.

Shen Yuan couldn't forgive what he did. And he couldn't forgive Shen Qingqiu for the choice he was forced to make.

But Yuan-shifu was beautiful, even with his face streaked with tears and his heart torn to pieces. This angel would have hated him forever. And Binghe would have loved him for the rest of his days.

He jumped into the Abyss on his own.

He didn't need anyone to force him to.

He jumped because he couldn't stand Yuan-shifu's hatred. He couldn't stand a worl, were his A-Yuan couldn't be kind as he once was.

[flankerclinger0a]

The greatest character in all of fiction:

The Fucking Door

[deimcs]

[VARRIC] Let's just try not to do that again. Bianca hates being turned on her friends.

[tk-duveraun]

Au where cultivators can transform into 1 animal form. In PIDW SQQ was a noble crane, but when SY transmigrates in, he finds himself able to transform into a snake.

Hah! He thinks, viciously. He'd always known the crane form had to be some kind of trick.

But as the days pass he realizes something's wrong. The bamboo house is wrong, wrong, wrong to his animal sense. It feels like the lair of prey. Not only that, but the nest hidden in the rafters over his bed is completely unsuited for his snake body.

While the nest is packed and lined with chunks of black fur (some bloody) the stray feathers are just that - strays, not part of the construction.

Worse, when LQG nearly dies of deviation in the lingxi caves, he growls that SQQ should have flown away "like he always does" instead of nearly getting run through.

If LQG witnessed SQQ original goods flying away multiple times, maybe it wasn't a trick after all. Maybe the original goods had been able to transform into a crane and now SY has a massive vulnerability in his facade.

It's only now that he's sure that the system confirms his fear. Additional objective: don't let anyone see him transform.

Thankfully Without-a-cure locks the skill beyond his grasp.

.

Even more thankfully, post-canon the system doesn't dock him for LBH seeing his transformation. Because certainly nothing would stop him from draping across his demonic husband's shoulders like a scarf as he cooks.

(Sqq also loves decadently curling up on thick, talisman-warmed furs in the sun while in snake form. LBH takes to reading to him and moving the furs to follow the sunlight's path)

[lovesickeros]

☆ choir of the faithless

{☆} characters venti, kaeya, the abyss {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings violence (minor) {☆} word count 2.7k

One moment, you lay wistlessly in your bed, head full of fleeting thoughts and ideas you bounced around internally. You were moment away from falling asleep, the draw of exhaustion unraveling the threads of your mind, pulling you apart and weaving your thoughts into the fathomless depths of a boundless dream.

The next you conclude that is exactly where you must be – blinking rapidly against the bright sun that bears down upon you through the massive branches and array of thousands of leaves swaying above you. It can only be a dream because you know those roots, those winding branches and the soothing song of wind chimes as leaves rustle and sway in the invisible path of the wind. It feels too real, but don't many dreams? You reach your hand sluggishly skyward, imagining the feeling of touching those leaves so high above, admiring the way light fractures as it passes through the tree so massive it blots out the sky above you. You'd have to crane your neck just to catch a proper glimpse of solemn blue past the swaying ocean of vivid greens.

It's beautiful.

It's familiar in the way home is. That warmth that settles in your chest, the solemn, quiet moments between. You've spent hours staring up at this tree, both your first steps and your last, simply admiring it all for what fleeting moments you can cling to.

You've played the game long enough – strayed towards its familiar branches at they reach towards the heavens – to recognize Windrise at even a passing glance. The perfect portrait of Mondstadt – the massive oak at the center, the statue of the seven with its hands outstretched and its wings curled protectively around itself..a memory of something you've seen a hundred thousand times, lingering like a ghost amongst its branches and roots, clinging to its familiarity. Maybe Mondstadt isn't the most complex, or gorgeous, or detailed..but it was the first stepping stone to the world of Teyvat you knew. It was the beginning of the Travelers journey and your own – the first, hesitant step into a game you'd learned to love.

You might as well enjoy it might it lasts, right?

This tumultuous, fragile dream of yours.

You sit up with no small amount of hesitancy, taking in the rolling, distant hills and far away cliffs. Mondstadt isn't that far – far enough that it bleeds into the scenery, but you feel that pang of fragile familiarity seeing it in the distance anyway. In contrast to its nation, Mondstadt stood like a towering beacon of stability, stark grey against the ever expanding hues of green and blue, a symbol of tranquility among the monster-laden lands beyond its walls. You still come by once and a while, whether or not it's your favorite place to linger – if only to reminisce and ponder the countless hours you've sunk into the game. To take a moment and admire the nation that had slowly dragged you into loving the world you've become so familiar with, to truly take a moment and process your endless journey further, deeper, into the mystery of Teyvat as it slowly unraveled like a spool of thread.

It felt almost real. The grass beneath you, the wind rustling the leaves and swirling around you, the warmth of the distant sun as it stood unwavering at its peak – but it was a dream. Vivid, maybe, but still a dream.

You didn't want to wake up from it, though.

It'd be nice to stay here for a little longer, to be able to wander past these fragile barriers of the world around you – but would you wake if you longed to see those distant horizons? Would you even remember this dream? Maybe not.

But the endless urge to explore – to see and truly experience that distant, familiar visage for yourself – was calling. A craving to run your hand along towering stone walls, to trace the intricate lines of the alchemy table you'd used hundreds of times, to get lost in the endless books tucked away in the library..a longing that you could never fulfill.

But you'd try anyway, wouldn't you?

You'd make the most of this fleeting dream – stumbling like a newborn fawn after seelies, watching from hidden perches as the occasional cart rolled by on dirt roads, observing the distant hilichurl with a look of solemn understanding. Re-familiarizing yourself with the paths you'd traveled hundreds of times, treading along the same, curious line you'd taken the Traveler.

Maybe it was just an aspect of the dream, but the wildlife didn't run away like it did in the game – the wild boars startled when you approached, but they'd settle down and continue their idle grazing before long. The occasional crystalfly fluttered to your outstretched hands like a moth to flame, the cool, subtle touch of anemo against your skin like a soft breeze, ephemeral and fleeting.

Even the squirrels did not flee at your boundless curiosity – it is as if you are a ghost, perhaps, wandering these wide spanning plains in search of..well, you aren't sure. You let your feet guide you, just like you used to. There is charm in the aimless exploration, a sort of comfort in wandering and observing the world through new eyes.

Perhaps you should've taken more caution when you reached Mondstadt itself – a dream was a fragile thing, after all..there was no telling when a dream could meld into a nightmare. But you were in the nation of freedom, who could blame you for throwing caution to the wind?

Uncertain as your steps across the bridge were, it was tranquil – ducks skimmed beneath the bridge, fish dotted the serene surface, clear waters rippling with their movements. There was something about it all that felt more alive. It felt more real, for a moment, but what an absurd thought that must be.

A dream is no more real than Teyvat.

And at the gates of the city, at last, you feel relief – the eyes of NPCs glide over you like water over the back of a swan, allowing you to simply step past them without even an utterance of a question. Up close, with your own eyes to guide you, Mondstadt is more alive than it's ever been. The people converse and laugh and breathe – the small details you'd miss looking through the limited frame of the Traveler peek through, now.

You get so lost in admiring it all you almost trip over a cat that strays near your feet, rubbing against your ankles. Your hand twitches, as if to reach down and pet it, to feel it's fur beneath your palm – but the small voice that flows from the tavern stalls you in your tracks. You don't have to turn around to know who it is, you've heard her voice enough times to recognize it – and, really, you'd rather not get caught up in the logistics of interacting with the characters in a dream at the moment. It's not like they can see you, besides. Everyone else didn't even seem to know you were there at all.

And you were here to explore, first. You could test the limits of the dream later, once you're satisfied you've seen it all.

You sidestep the cat – as much as it pains you to ignore it, you really don't know how much time you're afforded in this dream – and take up wandering undeterred. Maybe you'll check out the library, next..you only read a measly fraction of the books there, after all, and the wonder of something new is a tempting lure. Maybe if you get the chance, you'll seek out your favorite character – even if the dream ends there, it'll at least dampen the disappointment when you awake in your own bed again.

Mondstadt is still relatively small, despite seeming so much bigger – by the time you're slinking into the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, your legs are aching from all the walking. Even if you don't find anything too interesting here, well, you'll take sitting down for a moment to catch your breath at least.

The game made it seem so easy to get from Windrise to the city, but your legs practically putty when you peered into the library with a healthy amount of caution – it's not like anyone has even glanced your way since you woke up in this dream, but you knew not to test it around Lisa and her books..

Even if it was a dream, waking up because you got electrocuted by a pissed off librarian didn't sound very appealing.

Especially because, along the way, you'd become the perch for a handful of anemo crystalflies. You'd almost forgotten some linger on the rooftops until now..well, they seemed content to just rest on your limbs, and it's not like they weighed much if anything. It'd probably be fine – how much harm could a crystalfly cause?

The steps down into the lower level of the library creaked slightly as you slowly took in the grandiose room, trying to glimpse some semblance of familiarity amongst the hundreds of book covers nestled into the shelves. Maybe having a reference of just ten or twenty books wasn't exactly the most extensive list – you could barely even remember what books you mindlessly picked up chasing glittering spots like a moth chases the flickering flame.

Maybe you'll see Venti's statue, next – it was impressive enough in game, you could only imagine how it looks in person, how the smooth stone feels beneath your fingertips.

For now, you scour the rows and rows of book, gleaning the contents of the books from the assorted covers and titles so foreign to you. You recognize a scarce few, those you picked up on your first, brisk walk through the library scouring for treasure just to be disappointed at the lack of it. These days you're just happy to bask in the atmosphere and reminisce here – unless you're dragging your feet to do your Theater for the month. Not a lot of room for reminiscing when you're busy fighting for your life to finish on time.

Still, you're almost half disappointed there hasn't been many playable characters around..sure, maybe they'd just ignore you like the other NPCs, but it'd still be nice to see them. If Dawn Winery wasn't so far away, you'd consider dropping by, just to see, but..well, you've hiked long enough, personally.

Though as much as you'd like to busy yourself in the library, you do want to make the most of your time, too. You don't pay much attention to the patter of footsteps as you ascend the stairs and awkwardly step past the guard outside the library, the brief blur of reds and blues in the corner of your eyes gone before you can truly see its source. Well, there's more to see anyway – the cathedral was impressive enough when you first saw it in game, you can only imagine it's magnificence now.

All the stairs definitely feels worse now that you can't just haul yourself up a wall like in game, though. Maybe it would've been better to rest a bit more in the library, but you really didn't want to waste this chance..how often did you really have this much control over a dream, anyway? You feel lucky it hadn't turned into a nightmare.

And it was more than worth it when you crested the top of the stairs, the wind rushing past you for a brief moment and almost making you stumble as your eyes flit towards the towering stone you'd known so well. Hands outstretched and draped in robes, looking all the Archon they are..well, it was a lot more detailed like this. The lull of music doesn't escape you, either – because of course they'd be strumming that lyre beneath their own statue. Playing to an audience who knows not the bard that plays a melody of their own triumphs. The same bard who commands the wind as if an extension of themself, their voice the chimes that sing in tune with its winding paths, free and true.

Even if you've never heard the song they play before, it leaves a warm feeling in your chest – a homesickness, maybe, for a place you've never even been to. A longing for the world made up of lines of code and pixels on a screen. Endless yearning for a world not your own – a place you don't belong.

Poetic, isn't it?

Fitting, seeing as your audience is a bard who loves to tempt another into a riddle of their own, their silver tongue used for mischief rather than malice.

It wouldn't be so bad if you woke up now, you think. Lulled back to reality by the gentle strum of a lyre and the sweeping winds.

A reality all your own.

The harsh twang of a lyre brings you out of your aimless reverie, eyes of the teal ocean meeting your own in a moment of startling clarity. You are almost tempted to look behind you, for they must be perceiving another – but the empty, hollow thud of the lyre hitting the cobbled ground is like a bullet to the chest.

Beneath the shrouded eyes of an Archon, the wind coils into a tightly wound bolt that sings with danger, the draw of a string making your blood run cold and your instincts flare up.

Before you could even process the fact they'd just drawn a bow – the bow you had given them – the pillar of the corridor shattered like glass beneath the force of an elemental arrow, rubble dusting the cobblestone and dragging you out of your horrified stupor. If it hadn't been between the two of you, you can only dread to imagine what an arrow that pulverized rock would do to you.

There's a knot in your stomach as you turn to pace right back down the stairs, but you stutter at the sharp glint of metal and familiar blue hair that stands frozen mid-step – for a moment you can't even register any of this, your mind refuses to accept the stark, bleeding truth right in front of you, but the shrill sound of anemo forces you to make a choice. You only hesitate for a moment before throwing yourself over the edge of the wall, nearly choking on your saliva when you hit the ground – it was farther than you remember, but when your other choice is a blade and an arrow, you're thankful you haven't broken anything yet as you stumble to your feet.

Why haven't you waken up yet? You don't want to be in this dream anymore – you don't want anything to do with the nightmare it's become. Just seeing their faces, familiar and once so calm and warm, contrasted with the sharp edge of danger made you want to be sick.

Water – water will wake you up, right? That always works. Your feet slip on the dirt, struggling to gain purchase, forcing yourself to rush towards the cliffs edge – you have to repeat that it's just a dream like a mantra just to keep yourself calm when you look down, the lapping waves and jagged rocks making you almost reconsider. Not that you get the chance, really, when the wood of the tree beside you is splintered so violently you can feel them digging into your skin.

You don't even realize you've lost your footing until the edge of the cliff gives beneath your heel, air rushing around you and forcing what little breath was left in your lungs out violently. Your vision blurs into a collage of blue and grey, the sky above and the side of the cliff you find yourself falling from flooding your vision – you have to trust you'll simply wake up in your bed once you hit the water. You have to.

You don't want to imagine what it would mean if you didn't.

It's just a dream – all of it is just a dream, no. a nightmare.

And as the water parts from the impact of your body against the surface, it drags you down like an anchor weighed against your chest. Your vision bleeds into white, a chill enveloping your limbs until you feel numb – dead, probably. You must be dead. You died and you plead that you wake up back at home, exhaling whatever breath you had left, cold stinging your throat like shards of glass.

Anchored weightlessly in frigid cold, blinded by stark white, your fleeting thoughts are silenced as your consciousness flickers in and out, lingering long enough only to hear the murmur of a raspy, unearthly voice.

"I believe the experiment can be considered a success, Princess."