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#The Shaper of Minds
threewaysdivided · 21 days
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The Shaper of Minds and its possible consequences for a certain character
I have finally joined the rest of the internet in losing my mind over a D&D Podcast - in my case, the wonderful Dan Jones & Dragons.  With Episode 26 due to stream on Dan’s Twitch this week, I really want to talk about some of the stuff that came up across the just-finished Gala sessions because the fallout from that has the potential to be incredibly fraught.
THE SHAPER OF MINDS
The relic the Flower Crowns were going after this mission – The Shaper of Minds – is a potentially fascinating narrative device that might as well have been lab-engineered to be my exact brand of personal nightmare fuel.   It’s a small, ornate brass key that can alter any part of the target’s mental faculties/thoughts/memories at will should the wielder touch it to any part of their victim’s skin.
Now, on one hand, there are a heap of interesting (and even benevolent) applications for a tool like that.  It could instantly grant access to skills, languages and knowledge that would otherwise take a person years of study to learn.  It could be used to sort through and resolve memories that had been faded by time, muddied by trauma or forcibly supressed by magical/medical means.  But on the other…
As described and used in campaign so far, the primary function of the Mindshaper is to alter memories (and the attendant personality) with the target having no awareness that their mind has been changed.  It’s basically gaslighting on steroids, except that where a gaslighting victim still retains their original recollection – and has to be manipulated by their abuser into doubting their own perceptions and instead accepting the alternate telling of events (a cognitive dissonance that can eventually lead the person to recognise the manipulation) – the Shaper of Minds entirely replaces the original recollection of events with the version the wielder wants their victim to perceive.  There is no internal conflict between accounts, no inconsistencies that could alert the victim that someone has broken into their head and rewritten their perceived reality.  The person they reshape you to be is the person you believe you always were.  And all it takes is a single touch.
That is a brand of existential horror that had me on edge all throughout Session 24 (basically from the moment it was implied the key was in play).   Reality may be objective, but each individual person’s internal reality is governed by their perception – their memories – of the events in their life, no matter how incomplete, biased or otherwise skewed that personal perspective may have been.  You have value just by being you because you are not replaceable, but the thing that makes you unique is, in large part, the sum total of those inimitably specific personal memories.  No-one else will perceive the world in exactly the same way you do, and even a few minor changes to just a few of those perceptions can flow on to massive differences in ideals, values, priorities and future choices.  In that regard, the use of the Mindshaper Key isn’t so much an alteration as an obliteration of the victim’s former self and replacement with someone new; even if that new stranger is largely indistinguishable from the original.  And, again, all it takes is a single touch.
[Sidenote:  This made Mister Wick an especially effective antagonist to wield the key, since his Galas functionally trap even targets who are aware of the threat within the rules of high-society behavioural expectations.  Otherwise-innocuous actions like a handshake or private conversation suddenly become incredibly dangerous, while being nigh-impossible for the Flower Crowns to extract themselves from without committing an atrocious faux pas and potentially tipping Wick off.  Perfectly designed stage for a psychological horror-thriller encounter.]
Which of course, brings us to a certain character who fell victim to the key in Episode 24…  [put under the cut for spoiler reasons]
MORENTHAL
This poor Drow, he can never catch a break…
Morenthal may not have been the most mechanically dangerous party member to fall victim to Mister Wick’s manipulations although, given that the key was revealed to let its wielder read existing memories during the alteration, and that all of the Flower Crowns were fully briefed on the locations and nature of the Eversteel artefacts, him getting a hand on any of them could have been very bad plot-wise but from a character point of view I think he’s the one who the key’s effects had the potential to be most personally devastating for.
The way things ended up playing out across Session 25 was precisely the nightmare scenario Gamb was fretting about out of game: Mister Wick forcibly implanted Morenthal’s mind with false memories of being his lifelong trusted confidant and supporter, then – before the Flower Crowns could reverse the key’s effect – Morenthal discovered that Mister Wick had been killed in combat with Coil and Preston, leading to the Party having to physically restrain him so they could use the key to undo the damage, thus confronting Morenthal with the realisation that not only was everything he thought he knew about Jonathan a lie, but in actuality Jonathan had committed possibly the most invasive violation he’d ever been subjected to in order to forcibly make Morenthal into one of his loyal tools.  That level of emotional and mental whiplash would be rough on any character, but for Morenthal it’s particularly brutal because…
Based on what’s been revealed in-game so far, the core of his character is that Morenthal is an abused child.  This most-clearly came up in his conversation with Gelnek in Session 14; he was a child who grew up with nothing, raised by the Bloodletter Mercenaries as a tool instead of a person, and taught to see faces only as targets – with him also mentioning to Hobson in that their “combat training” involved being relentlessly beaten down until he learned to fight back.  During his Session 21 visit with the Nightmother, he openly admits that “nowhere feels safe”.  From that it’s pretty clear to read that Morenthal has never felt unconditionally loved, safe or respected around other mortals.
(This also helps contextualise why he’s so devoted to the Nightmother.  From what little we have seen of his visits to her, Iris is a fond “adult” figure, who does not threaten, does not judge, asks nothing of him aside from his company, and cares equally for all the souls that pass through her domain.  For a child “growing up with nothing” but violence, that would have been everything.)
But then, enter Jonathan fucking Wick.  And now, just for a short while, Morenthal has all these “memories” of Jonathan being there to confide in, encourage him and support his escape from the Bloodletters.  Suddenly he believes someone was there for him and, while the memories might be fake, the feelings of unconditional safety they would have brought were very real.  Little wonder that he started acting like a Trilby-level naive goober around Mister Wick to the point of accidentally snitching on the rest of the group.  Only, then it turns out to be a lie and those memories are gone.
For me, I think one of the worst things Morenthal might end up dealing with in the aftermath of having his memory fixed isn’t the specific feeling of personal betrayal or the potential shame at having been caught: it’s the realisation that he was always alone.   That there was no mortal on the outside who cared or came for him when he needed them – just him and the distant fondness of a Divine.  That would be awful beyond words, and yet the Flower Crowns were forced to inadvertently inflict it upon him in order to restore his mind.  No wonder he wouldn’t look any of them in the eye before the session closed.
Worse still, the nature of the key makes it incredibly hard not only to trust others, but to trust your own mind.  The players and audience above-table know that Morenthal is back to experiencing and remembering reality as it happened, but the question could very well linger for him, bringing with it a hefty dose of paranoia.  Sure, Morenthal correctly remembers that Coil is a straightforward, loyal person who wouldn’t be tempted to tamper with his mind beyond undoing Jonathan’s manipulations… but he “remembered” that about Mister Wick too, and wouldn’t that be a beneficial thing for the Party to have him think?   To Morenthal, people were already Not Safe™, but now the one person he ever believed might be had actually violated him worse than anyone else in order to force and abuse that trust.  How is he supposed to trust anyone if he can’t trust the authenticity of his own recollections.  (I get the feeling that Morenthal probably isn't going to be capable of relaxing until the Shaper of Minds is confirmed to either be locked back safely in the Vaults of Eversteel or fully removed from the Mortal Plane by Six).
It makes it really tragic that all of this came directly on the back of Episode 23, where Gamb revealed during the above-table break chat that - even if Morenthal didn’t recognise why – he unconsciously trusted Trilby and Gelnek enough to jump off the airship without checking that his rope was secure, because deep-down he knew they would catch him.  To go from that high-point to the whiplash of him first thinking the Flower Crowns had killed the only person he was ever “safe” with, then them inadvertently subjecting him to the most painful realisation he could ever experience and potentially leaving him wondering whether he can even trust his feelings about them is absolutely gutting.
I think the thing that scares me most about how the aftermath could potentially play out is another trait that Gamb and Dan have established for Morenthal: he's a flight-risk.   He shies away from letting people get close and, if he feels unsafe enough, he runs.  It’s already been mentioned/implied that he’s considered fleeing the group at multiple different points across the sessions.  And with him likely not feeling safe even in inside his own mind right now, that risk is probably at an all-time high.  The poor lad is staring down the barrel of a potentially-impending multi-level emotional crisis, where a lifetime of instincts will probably be urging him to run hard and fast because People Are Not Safe™.
And the thing is, that instinct isn’t a good one for him either.  Morenthal might have gotten by on his own “just living to be” up until Filgrove, but that feels a lot more like surviving out of necessity than having an actual life.  It’s pretty obvious that he pushes people away as a defence mechanism:  if you don’t care about anyone then you can’t be hurt by them or have those people used against you.  But if you don’t let yourself care and feel things, you’re not really living.  The truly tragic part of his running being a potential foreseeable outcome is that the Flower Crowns are good for Morenthal.  (I doubt Morenthal realises it and can’t speak to Gamb’s above-table thought process but it’s interesting that one potential interpretation of Morenthal’s cynical, faux-apathetic, “stinky” behaviour is that of a former abused child quietly testing the boundaries of whether he’s allowed to exist in a way that’s inconvenient for others, to which the answer from the Party has largely been yes provided he isn’t actively encouraging Trilby to get himself killed, or killing people without explaining himself).  He survived alone before because that was all he knew, but I get the feeling he wouldn’t do so well if he tried to go it solo again after being with people (he’s already confessed that the idea of Feyli being gone makes him miss her).   That’s not a road to walk on his best day, let alone with his current headspace and tendency towards self-destructive choices. 
It reminds me a lot of this article:
“Still, it’s easier for us to keep blaming ourselves because it’s preferable to facing the unthinkable: the fact that our parents don’t love us. …  Most people would rather do anything than accept this as the truth. Not only is it painful; it’s humiliating.”
So yeah, suffice to say I am incredibly concerned about how Morenthal’s arc is going to play out over the next session(s).  Here’s hoping that Gelnek and/or Coil have enough emotional savvy to keep an eye out, and enough patience to stick to him even if he lashes out in attempt to drive them off.  Even if it all works out okay, I get the feeling that this one’s going to be ugly.
Can’t wait to see how everyone chooses to play it ❤️‍🩹
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echollama · 3 months
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Lantern Rite 2024 doodles!
This year's event hit a bit close to home for me personally, and I loved it🥰🥰🥰
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shadowed-dancer · 4 months
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Hoyoverse: We don’t have favourites, we like all the adepti equally
Also Hoyoverse:
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grandboute · 7 months
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Longboard perfect style by Jym Arawak
Surfing spirit
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idol--hands · 9 months
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luke-life · 5 months
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I like the art of the human moon carver and mountain shaper but mountain shaper gives me old man vibes ,him trapping people in amber for trespassing is the equivalent of "get off my lawn".
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comicwaren · 1 year
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From Storm & the Brotherhood of Mutants #003, “The Song of the End”
Art by Alessandro Vitti and Rain Beredo
Written by Al Ewing
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Fast Brain Booster Dietary supplement
Sharper Mind, Sharper Days: My Experience with Fast Brain Booster
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chadwickginther · 2 months
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Worldshapers Volume V Kickstarter! New Story!
I will have a new short story in Edward Willet’s Shapers of Worlds V anthology. That is, I will have a new short story if the project funds on Kickstarter… Editor Edward Willett from the Shapers of Worlds Volume V Kickstarter page: I’m raising funds to publish an anthology of short stories by some of the authors, including many major award-winners and international bestsellers, who were guests…
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avocad1s · 2 months
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Requests are open and the latest sparked some ideas so…
Imagine the reader not having specific favorites, but more groups favorites, like a reader that’s a big fan of the Knights of Favonious or The Akademiya
Note: KoF, Adepti, Akademiya, Fatui, and the Abyss mentioned with some small snippets from characters in those groups. But all of them have a small overview of how they view your favoritism over them.
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The Knights Of Favonius are pretty humble unlike the other nations. Although they may be criticized by a certain tavern owner, even he won’t question your favor towards the Knights (openly). Having your favor feels like a blessing from the Anemo Archon, many of them even believe that handling the stormterror incident themselves made them win your favor.
Although he isn’t around currently, daddy I mean— Varka feels a sense of pride knowing he left the wellbeing in Mondstadt in good hands. He is looking forward to finally meeting you once he returns. Jean constantly overworks herself, but she’s knows that it’s worth it if she can keep your favor. Mondstadt might seem “inadequate” when compared to other nations when it comes to where you should stay but Jean will make sure you’re never uncomfortable.
When it comes to your comfort, Jean would turn to Diluc, he may not be apart of the Knights but he does own the Dawn Winery and everyone knows you’ll enjoy staying there. Outrider Amber will make it her responsibility to guide you to the heart of Mondstadt and back to Dawn Winery during your entire stay. She’ll teach you how to glide! Just be sure not to mention that to anyone else… some might be upset that she could’ve put you in danger.
Speaking of danger, Klee adores being able to play with you! She will take you fish blasting! Yes it can be a bit dangerous but it’s fun! However once someone realizes that Klee and Their Grace hasn’t been seen in a while, they begin to panic. Usually Albedo, Kaeya or Rosaria are the ones to find you first, then the fun is over. (Klee may or may not get solitary confinement 💀)
Kaeya is a smooth talker and very charismatic that it’s difficult to discern just how flustered he’ll get in your presence. He’ll use his good talking skills to get you to himself, usually inviting you out to Good Hunter or even for a drink (if you’re a drinker) but being in your presence and knowing that he is apart of the group you openly favor over anyone else in Teyvat makes him tremble. Although in front of you he’ll just give a simple smile and charm you with his flattery.
———
Oh the Adepti are so respectful towards you. I mean, they served directly under Rex Lapis for centuries. They do not allow mortals to disrespect Rex Lapis, I’d be surprised if they even let anyone have a thought that could be considered disrespectful towards you. They feel a sense of pride knowing that they are your favorite. However unlike the others, they aren’t too vocal about it.
Sharing tea with you is by far their favorite thing to do. Inviting you to Jueyun Karst to enjoy the finest of tea and meals while reminiscing about Liyue’s past is something they all always wanted. During the Archon war, while they all fought for Rex Lapis, everything was still in your name. So now that Teyvat is at peace, (for now) they just want to enjoy an eternity with you.
Xiao is usually the one who tries to stay away from you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be around, far from it, but in his mind he feels as if he’s only useful to you if you’re in danger. When you spend time with the adepti he is unsure if he should come. Would you even want him there? But the second he hears you call his name, he’ll appear no matter what. Prepared to face any danger you might be in… but there’s none. In fact it’s just you, Cloud Retainer, Moon Carver, Mountain Shaper, and Ganyu. Xiao would remove his mask and place down his polearm silently enjoying his time in your presence.
Xianyun who has just recently began visiting Liyue Harbor in her human form again is definitely most open when it comes to you. Spending all her mora to buy things she knows you’ll like (and getting scammed) and inviting you to join her and Shenhe for tea. If you’re not in the mood for tea? Why don’t the two of you dissect these new human inventions that managed to capture her interest. How exactly does this machine from Fontaine keep a kite floating?
———
The Akademiya values their wisdom over anything else, and now they have your favor? Well, they’re kinda smug about it, you know? Many of them already believed they were better than the other nations (cough, cough, the Grand Sage) and having you in their corner might just make them a bit more insufferable. Unless it’s after Nahida takes back the reign.
The Akademiya would prefer if you stayed in Sumeru. The second you’re ready to settle down, Kaveh will be the first to approach you, he would be honored to be the architect that builds your palace. Mora is no problem! (Because no one would dare charge mora for Their Grace) No matter, Kaveh is very good at what he does, do you have any preferences when it comes to the construction? Please tell him, he strives to make you happy and show off his skills to you.
The acting grand sage of the Akademiya, Alhaitham enjoys living a comfortable life and is not fond of being in the role of a leader. The second someone worthy comes around, he will resign as the acting grand sage and return to his previous position as the scribe who was never around during working hours. Despite his… unambitious tendencies (only doing what’s necessary), he’ll try when it comes to you. If there is something you desire or some type of knowledge you going through the Akademiya for, he’ll offer his help. Although he can be pretty nonchalant, he does enjoy being in your presence and if your favor towards the Akademiya began after he took on the role as acting grand sage, his ego may swell a bit.
———
As if the Fatui didn’t have enough power across Teyvat already and now you favor them. Her Majesty and the harbingers are extremely grateful of having your favor in their corner, but they are definitely going to exploit this. It’s so easy for them to obtain more and more power in the other nations with the simple use of your name.
However even thought the Fatui can all collectively agree that having your favorite benefits them all, they are still incredibly selfish with their own intentions. The second you enter the Zapolyarny Palace, the harbingers are quickly scheming on ways to get you to themselves.
Pantalone, by far the richest of all the harbingers, will always offer to take you shopping. You’re the Creator! You can have as much jewelry, clothing, and other accessories as you want. Just be sure to follow him before one of the others pull you away.
Arlecchino is fully aware just how… unsettling her true side might be to you. But worry not! If there is one person who can keep her sane, it’s you! Want to see a magic show? Or maybe even an opera? She’ll take you! Cracks of her true personality might show if the others try stealing you away though.
Capitano is truly a legend on the battlefield, no matter how the others feel about him. One thing none of them will never deny is his strength. He holds a sense of righteousness that some (one puppet in particular) criticize. But his righteousness shines through with you. If you show any interest in learning to fight, he would be honored to teach you. Or maybe you already have incredible abilities, you are the God of Gods, he would love to test his strength against yours. No matter who wins, he’s willing to go again and again… just don’t go to a certain ginger asking for a sparring match.
Pierro, the first to be betrayed by the Seven when they destroyed his home. Many would think he would hold some type of resentment towards you, but he doesn’t. He is the director of the harbingers and they listen to his orders (usually coming from the Tsaritsa) so when you visit Snezhnaya he is usually the one to assign one of the harbingers to look after you. However he’s not afraid to use his power so he can be the one to look after you. Much to the other’s dismay.
———
You favor… The Abyss? Sorry, I need to rub my eyes and read that again.
No one understands your favoritism towards the Abyss. “They hate humanity Your Grace… Perhaps you should stay away from them?” Is what you hear all the time. But no one can technically force you to stay away… not to mention no one really knows what the Abyss actually is.
Very few know of the leader of the Abyss, the Prince/Princess or rather the travelers sibling. They can’t see you as often as they’d like but on the rare occasions they can, they love speaking to you about their plan. Sometimes they’ll even ask you questions about the traveler, curious how their journey of meeting the Seven is going.
Although he is not apart of the Abyss, at least not anymore. Even Dainsleif wonders what about the Abyss is appealing to you. Even if you do not know it, he’ll be sure to keep an eye on you just in case anyone or anything tries to harm you.
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Note: While I was writing this and reading about some of the harbingers personalities on the fandom wiki, I might have accidentally gave myself a crush on Capitano 💀 I just know he is fine under that mask.
© avocad1s 2024
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fastcardotmp3 · 2 months
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welcome to dot drops something that's been sitting in her tumblr drafts for 4 months Saturday I hope you enjoy your visit mwah! Steddie; Ballet AU; Dancer!Steve; mentions of cancer treatment; 1.5k words
Dress rehearsal is supposed to be a mess.
That's the point of it, really, to get all the mistakes out of your system and start the actual show run with a clean slate. Or at least, that had been the point of which they'd all convinced themselves when Steve was the one performing.
Bad dress meant good show, or so the old adage went, and so at least there was some ease of worry with the collective understanding that it won't happen on the night within the company.
That was the case when Steve was a student, when he was an apprentice, even during his time in the big leagues at Joffrey, but right now? At the end of a truly abysmal dress in this run-down theater on the edge of a town from which he'd once run away?
Steve is not the performer. He's the guy in charge.
And so he spirals.
He'd never wanted to be a director or an instructor or the head of a studio like this. It had never been in his plans. Steve was a man of action, where the people who do these jobs are the brains behind the operation.
Steve knows how to work hard, how to force his body and even his mind into submission until he gets the steps just right, but this? These past six months back in Hawkins temporarily helping out?
(God, please let it be temporary.)
He's not built for this. He's sitting center stage after everyone has left with only half the house lights to illuminate his misery and he's not. Built. For. This.
Not built for being a mentor or a leader or a role model; not built to handle the strenuous nature of his mother's legacy; not built to carry the name she's made for herself as a teacher and a choreographer and a shaper of young dancers.
Steve's not built for it!
They'd had a shitty fucking dress.
"Hey, uh, you gonna be a while? I kinda need to close up for the night."
The voice echoes across the empty space, bouncing off the high ceiling and straight up to land on the Marley floors at Steve's feet. The stage isn't built for dancers, much like Steve isn't built to be here, so they'd had to pull up the floors from the studio and drag them halfway across town just to roll them out here.
"Hello? Are you, like, alive up there?"
Steve sighs. "Yeah," he calls back, catching sight of the figure talking to him at the back of the theater, the young guy who runs the place and who Steve met a grand total of three days ago. His name is Eddie and he dresses more like he's running a music venue than a local community theater, but he's mostly stayed out of Steve's way so far. "Sorry, I'll get outta your hair."
"Sure," Eddie says, but he's just sort of leaning against the back wall by the window to the sound and lighting booth without an ounce of urgency to him as Steve drags himself to his aching feet and lugs his three separate bags of show stuff onto his shoulders.
There's an energy to an empty theater, one which has held a performance and one which now holds the ghosts of that performance, which tugs at the anxieties sitting buried deep beneath the more immediate ones.
Fears about his mom's health, about what will happen to the studio if she doesn't win this particular battle, about what will happen to him.
There's an energy here in the creak of the steps which lead down off the front of the stage and there's an energy to the plod of Steve's sneakers up the long, racked aisle between the seats.
There's an energy, but it's also not empty, is it.
"Hey, good show, dude," Eddie says, pushing off his wall as Steve grows nearer. "Like, talented kids you've got there."
Steve scoffs before he can help himself and then pinches the bridge of his nose in a grimace for not being able to help himself.
"Uh, yeah, thanks," he grits out, thinking about his bed. Thinking about how he never made time for dinner and he has to be here early again tomorrow.
"Wow, resounding confidence on this one," Eddie snorts, and when Steve opens his eyes it's to genuine amusement, genuine curiosity in the tilt of a head and furrow of a brow.
"No, just," he shakes his head, "you should see 'em when they're really on their game, y'know?"
Eddie hums, and when did Steve come to a stop right in front of him? He's leaving. He has to leave. Go home. Think about all the spacing corrections he needs to fix tomorrow and run through with the girls before show time.
"Bad dress, good show though, right?"
Steve startles. Maybe a little too visibly because Eddie is actively holding back laughter at the sight of him.
"What, I've worked at a theater for four years and I'm not supposed to pick up a thing or two about the ballet?" he snarks good-naturedly. "Caroline, the lady who did your job before you, she was a chatty one, taught me everything I know about Giselle."
It's a knife between the ribs. It's a soothing sort of heat, like from a roaring bonfire.
"You--" he clears his throat, "you know Caroline?"
"Highlight of the job honestly, before she retired," Eddie shrugs.
"She didn't retire."
"Oh. She...?"
"Chemo," Steve doesn't know why he's saying it all so willingly, why after months of trying to run the studio without having to talk about how's your mom doing, sweetheart? he's opening up to this stranger with the curly hair and curious eyes. But he knows her. He's-- Well, he knows her. "I'm just here to-- to fill in until she can come back. So."
Eddie is studying him now. Curious eyes turned intelligent, knowing, sad with the weight of realization.
"You're the wonder boy," he says on a breath like oh, I get it now.
"The what?" Steve balks.
"Her kid," Eddie says like it's simple. He's leaning against the wall again, like he's not planning on getting back to work anymore, "she was-- Shit, man, she loves the hell outta you. Oh, you should see my son, he's in Les Corsaire this season! Oh, my boy, he's just gotten promoted to soloist, he'll be a principal in no time! Oh, the talent on him, the--"
"Okay, okay, Jesus," Steve cuts him off, a half-hysterical laugh bubbling up out of his chest in the process.
"You should tell her I say hi next time you see her," Eddie isn't remotely deterred by having his little, lilting performance derailed. There's a softness to him that deserves a smaller space, walls less prone to echo.
"I will," Steve nods. His bags grow heavy on his shoulders.
"And you should chill out a little bit," he says, this time with the kind of glint to his eye that needs a bigger space, needs to be up on the stage to the point where it has Steve floundering, "y'know, about the the shitty dress that, between you and me," he leans in conspiratorially, close enough to feel the heat of his breath, "wasn't really all that shitty."
Steve sucks in a breath.
It strikes him somewhere old, the reassurance, somewhere young deep inside of him. The comforting from a mother that if he just works hard enough he’ll land that double tour in fifth some day soon, the unbroken promise that she would never give him special treatment as the son of the studio owner, but that she would never hesitate to reward him when he’d earned it on his own.
It strikes him because no one tells you how little reassurance the guy in charge is ever offered and it strikes him because it’s been such a long day and it strikes him because—
“Hey, have you had dinner yet?”
Eddie’s eyebrows lift high on his forehead and Steve sees it, the attitude on this dude that his mother absolutely would have loved in an instant. There’s a performer in there, even just in the brief interaction they’ve shared so far. There’s a spotlight pointing inwards and a show begging to be dragged out.
“No,” Eddie drags out slow and curious, “you offering, ballet boy?”
Steve needs a sounding board and he needs another set of eyes and he needs his mom to be okay and the show tomorrow to prove that he can handle this for her if she’s not, but maybe what he needs most right now, on the other side of a spiral in a dark and echoing theater, is this.
“Meet me at Benny’s in thirty,” he says simply as he makes his way for the door. “Since you’re such an experienced test audience.”
Eddie’s responding laugh is bright and his eyes glitter with curious amusement and maybe this is what Steve needs because maybe all of this is one big rehearsal at a big new life in and old small town.
And maybe this is his chance to make a mess of it. At least until the real show starts.
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whispereons · 9 months
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Oracle!Reader Part 12
Masterlist - Part 1, Part 11, Part 13
Putting this early so y'all got something to read while waiting for Fontaine. Gl on wishing/saving!
Warning! This is SAGAU which is yandere, plus my story is imposter au which makes things even worse. You can expect detailed descriptions of sensitive topics like blood in this chapter.
The water is still as Mountain Shaper relays your claim to the other adepti. The cutting gaze they have is deflected by that calm expression you wear.
"Then before we deal with them, let's wrap up the situation with the children." Ganyu speaks softly as her eyes move past your form with wariness. 
Xingqiu and Chongyun relax at the sight of Ganyu.With her around, the punishment from the adepti should be prevented.
"Thank you both for coming to save the children, and I'm sorry we weren't in time to help that poor boy. I'm afraid I'll have to burden you both with the task of bringing them back to the city. This would be quite a big deal, especially for you, Xingqiu, as the son of such a prestigious family."
Xingqiu freezes up at the mention of his family while Ganyu takes out a notepad. She writes something on it and hands it over to him.
"This is a brief report on what happened, your cover up is that I asked you to bring them back home. You and your friend will have to give a report to the Millelith and when I get back, I can finish the report. I can get the needed information from your... teammate."
The skepticism and slight disgust in her voice makes it perfectly clear what she thinks about you. She didn't even want to thank you for participating in saving the children.
Ganyu is an adepti, even if she is half human, and that is why she has some of that signature arrogance. She always did jump to conclusions; like how she attacked that Fatui skirmisher that was berry picking. Her arrogance only makes it harder for her to change her mind until it's nearly too late.
Xingqiu smiles politely but the twitch in his eyebrow as he accepts the note says it all. Chongyun's face visibly sours but he keeps quiet. They both turn to you, silently asking if it's okay for them to leave you here.
Your lips stretch into a cheery smile and you give them a thumbs up. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just make sure Yiran gets to her father and that the mother of that poor boy gets his body."
They leave with the children clinging to them, the children still have remnants of tears in their eyes. You can only silently command Teyvat to make their journey back to the city as safe as possible.
"One knows not why this interloper is not already decaying at our feet. Surely any being that claims such a frivolous thing deserves to be sacrificed to the glorious Creator."
Rude as always, Cloud Retainer is the first to ignite the hatred for you. In Genshin she was always comedic relief after the Archon quest but it's different with your current position.
"Don't be so quick to see to my death, Cloud Retainer. Surely Mountain Shaper has already told you what secret information I know about you all." You smoothly comment. 
"The young herbalist is not impossible to hold information on, it's the scent of Teyvat on you that led me to not kick you off my mountain." Moon Carver interferes calmly. You get the sense that he's the most curious on who you are in contrast to the rest that just want you to die.
"Like I said, I'm an Oracle for the Creator themself. Surely you aren't going to doubt Teyvat in who it chooses to embrace."
"Mimicry is a common tactic among evildoers like yourself. Perhaps you're a demonic spirit from the old war hiding in human flesh. It would suffice as an explanation for the way you used that little girl to buy time for yourself." 
Mountain Shaper pushes the agenda of some evil lurking within you. Honestly, it's starting to annoy you but becoming emotional would only fuel them further.
"I only spoke to Yiran so rashly due to your stupid rules. Who focuses on intruders that you clearly saw came for the children instead of the terrified young girl? She was scared from the massacre and felt responsible for that boy's death. That same dead boy’s mother that you proceeded to insult."
"And why should we concern ourselves with the folly of humans?"
"I'm not asking you to. I'm saying that you should at least allow the other humans to help those children, yet you treat adults and children like they have the same mental capacity. Not surprising as adepti couldn't possibly understand the complexity of humanity but it’s still quite disappointing that you cannot even see the logic."
Your words earn you a sharp amber tearing into the skin of your left arm.  A low curse escapes you as you yank the injured arm away from the crimson painted amber. Examining the wound with a grimace, you apply pressure to slow the bleeding. The puncture wound lets your blood stain the clothing and drip off. 
It didn't go all the way through but in certain areas your vein and arteries can be seen. Not broken, just exposed and so very painful. Resisting the tears, you dig into your bag with your good hand for the medical kit.
As you clean and wrap up your wound, you can hear the adepti arguing.
"What are you doing you old coot? One was looking to expose their lies, not attack in such a haste. Now that filthy blood is staining my abode."
"Cloud Retainer is correct on this topic. As devoted worshippers of our caliber, having the ability to unravel the demonic lies is true proof of our strength."
It's so funny, you almost want to laugh in their faces. 'Filthy blood'? Your blood is the one that they worship like salvation. 'Demonic lies?' Isn't the Creator's word's law and truth no matter the message?
That haughtiness that leads them to try beating you at your own game will be their downfall. You'll enjoy this new act. After all...
They're only the stepping stones for the showdown between you and the Geo Archon.
With a bandaged arm that sends dull aches and electrifying pain at intervals, you smile and speak in a sweet tone.
"Finished conversing yet? If you're ready to try exposing my nonexistent lie then get rid of this amber cage and let me show you firsthand why I'm the Creator's Oracle."
Your serene smile is met with sharp glares, distrustful eyes and a timid gaze that speaks first.
"And what proof or action will you show us?"
"Well, I have multiple ways, but illuminated beings like yourself will not be satisfied with that. You'll see it as a trick, a prepared prop to convince you all. So instead, why don't you ask me to do something or relay something to the creator? Something that you're positive I can't complete."
Beisht's scale seems to make your bag heavier with the reminder of its existence. But it's not time for it yet. The adepti only see Beisht as an enemy, that gamble isn't one you're willing to risk just yet.
"One would never ask you to pray to the creator and sully their ears with your sinful voice. One has a better idea on what you can do as 'proof'. As much as One hates to let you get closer, it is necessary to enter my abode."
Mountain Shaper seems to grumble as the other adepti force him to release you. Chains made of Geo and Dendro wrap around your wrists and tug you forward. 
Were you truly that untrustworthy in their eyes? Four adepti against one human, the outcome is obvious, but you keep a leisurely pace behind them.
Cloud Retainer's domain-like door opens and once you all step inside, the door shuts with a loud bang. It's just like how you remembered it in the game.
An absolute confusing mess.
Ganyu and Cloud Retainer cross the barely hanging rock bridge with ease, Meanwhile Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper throw remarks at her.
"What is the meaning of such a mess? It's in even worse condition than when we visited 300 years ago."
"One's abode is not of your concern. It is normal for one to keep it in the environment that suits one's needs."
Cloud Retainer and Mountain Shaper continue to bicker back and forth as you are led through the turning platforms and transparent golden bridges. 
"Maybe if a certain mortal had just accepted death as their punishment, we wouldn't have to be going through this disorganization."
As adepti, they probably could have just flown to the top where Cloud Retainers' main ruins are but as you are clearly human, they had to take the long way. They don't bother to keep that fact quiet but Moon Carver constantly saying that only makes you walk slower in pettiness.
The main ruin finally comes into view and you remember the initial conversation with Cloud Retainer when you had to discuss Morax's fake death. The door behind that never let players in, is now open. 
Entering you are greeted with long hallways with inventions in different stages of creation littering it. Texts, and murals of different time periods cover the walls. Morax, Guizong, the Yaksha and even other adepti you don't recognize are there.
A left turn at a three way intersection goes to a large room decorated beautifully with feathers and gemstones alike. The image of you forming an egg that has brown scales and gold accents is the main centerpiece. 
This must be how they believe you created Morax. Then does that solve the question on whether the egg or the chicken comes first? 
Cloud Retainer stops in the middle of the room and spreads her wings to point at the sides of the room that are inscribed with text.
"Ever since One took residence in this abode, One has never been able to decipher the text, nor has any other being that got One's permission to enter this sacred room been able to decipher it. If you are truly the Oracle then surely you must be able to decode such scriptures."
"Then let's see just what message this scripture contains." Your proud words are all the bravado you need to walk past their eyes and approach the closest words on the left wall.
As you move to walk past Cloud Retainer's form, she brings her wing down to cover your path.
"Death is the only ending for you in One's eyes. If you fail to translate, then you'll die. If you tarnish or destroy it, then you'll die. And if you refuse, then death will claim you before you can even finish your words." 
"I understand full and well, Cloud Retainer. My life belongs to the Creator, no matter how difficult or painful."
Her wing cuts through your shackles with ease. Now free, you walk past with that confident posture you've held throughout this meeting. Your hands itch to run over the wall and pray that Teyvat will automatically translate it as it had done for everything else. Yet when you get close enough to make out the words, you smile widely. A sight so beautiful for your poor eyes.
'Elemental creatures of all kinds must continue to worship the maker of all things to maintain their loving and personal connection. Refusing or forgetting to do so is the same as rejecting or not caring for them. Consequences are dire and just like trust, it'll be much harder to restore.'
Your language is written on the wall in clear letters. Your luck seems to have turned around for now. You could do so much with this information.
"I can understand this perfectly. It's the language the Creator uses to communicate on the world they're resting in. The scripture describes elemental worship that is specific to only elemental beings."
You recite the first text with ease as the room goes quiet. Not a laugh, scoff nor grumble is heard in the room. Should you take this as a bad or good thing? 
Pushing onward you begin to translate the rest of the text on both sides of the room. It gives a detailed explanation on how to sacrifice body parts, energy, blood, and lifeforce. 
"Stop, we have heard enough." Moon Carver cuts in emotionlessly. You look back at them feigning a confused expression. Trouble is clear on their faces, the truth of your words is spreading guilt within them.
Inwardly your lips curve into a smile that seems to soothe the pain in your arm.
They aren't guilty from the approaching truth of your 'oracle' status being real. They're feeling guilt over the worship methods that they had forgotten.
But pompous beings like them will never accept their wrong-doings so easily.
"You speak of words that poison our minds and weigh our hearts with guilt. This may be but a sham that you wish to deceive us with. Us, illuminated beasts will not accept this method until it's been proven in our sights."
With a careless shrug and scoff, you speak to Mountain Shaper with an uncaring attitude. "I would happily do it to myself just to prove my words true, but I'm not an elemental being like you all were so happy to point out. It seems one of you will have to test it out or we'll never get anywhere."
"Or perhaps we can end this farce now and eliminate you from the beloved maker's gaze." His angry reaction has you covering your mouth in surprise.
"You would skip past the proper protocols in the case concerning the Creator? Where is your devotion? Your faith? Or are you just afraid to do so and see the honesty in my words? Maybe it's a mix of both..."
Mountain Shaper takes a clawed step forward that makes the ruins shake. Cloud Retainer blocks his path with her wing.
"One has had enough of this Shaper! Treat the eulogies and artwork of the creator with more respect."
"It is shameful that an illuminated being like yourself is being led by a mortal like that. Are we not the ones who survived this long despite the varying enemies and plots? Calm yourself before you sully the Creator's pride with your uncontrollable wrath."
Mountain Shaper looks pissed as his eyes glare at you with malice. The temptation to flip him off with a shit-eating grin is too strong and he turns away like a toddler at your crude actions.
"I can do the ritual for us to learn the truth on this matter." A timid voice steps in during the brief silence. All eyes turn to Ganyu as she keeps her hands close to her chest.
"All the work I do is for Liyue, Rex Lapis, and most importantly: the Creator. If this method is true then I can learn a more intimate way to worship them. And if not, then I can keep the creator's reputation pure by utterly destroying Y/N."
Her words are soft and gentle but turn dark near the end as she stares at you seriously. The adepti stay quiet seeming to respect her bold actions even if Cloud Retainer seems just a bit ruffled.
"You said that there are many different offerings to give, all with their own reward. Which one would give the best result?"
"The energy sacrifice would be the most convenient and easiest but it doesn't fit you well due to your lethargic nature. Your body is physically strong so a blood offering would be the best choice."
Ganyu's eyes seem to follow your form as you step closer to the section that contains the instructions for the blood offering. She's no doubt trying to figure out how you could know about that without considering the possibility of you being the Oracle true.
You read it out loud so that everyone is on the same page before looking back at them.
"So let's start with the main things. We'll need a clear area outside along with a ceremonial dagger and cup. I'll wait here and write down all the ritual instructions for future use."
In Genshin you always know a NPC is suspicious when they want to 'wait and write' something while you do the actual work. The distrustful looks they all send you feel the same way.
They leave Ganyu to watch over you while they all leave to prepare the ritual. Deciding to leave Ganyu alone, you go back to jotting down the text into your handbook.
It's quiet to the point of it being uncomfortable yet you diligently finish the notes and simply doodle on the free space. Ganyu's eyes never stop running down your body, you ask yourself if she's even blinking.
"Before I came here to visit, I heard of an incident at Liyue Harbor. About two geovishap hatchlings that went feral and caused a mess. The most interesting part was how the 'winner' displayed its trophy to a masked stranger."
Ah, Ganyu... 3,000 years old and counting half-qilin adeptus with a whole war as experience. Did you ever forget her knowledge? No, you just simply underestimated her resilience to erosion. 
"Is there something you want to ask me about that incident? If so, just spit it out. Communication is important, a secretary like yourself should know that much."
"I have no doubt that you are the person in the incident. I'm conflicted over how you came to your... position. Someone tricking the people is normal and still saddening. But someone trying to trick the adepti? Foolish and stupid. I will stop you either way but just know that I will not stand for your evil actions."
A laugh slips past your lips as your gaze falls onto her firm stance. Gentle and quiet are the words to describe qilin yet the conflict avoiding nature seemed to have skipped Ganyu's genes. 
"Then I hope you repent properly to the creator for refusing to believe their loyal servant for speaking the truth." You move to stand in front of her and stare deeply into her eyes with mirth. "It seems the adepti have already returned. Why don't we get going?"
Not a moment later, Cloud Retainer's voice rings out, calling for you both to come outside. Smiling cheerfully, you follow Ganyu out of Cloud Retainer's home.
The moon's glow tenderly caresses your skin and bandaged arm as the water laps at your legs. The adepti stand on the small patch of land as you and Ganyu trudge across the water. On the table is a clean dagger with intricate gold patterns and a gold chalice decorated with Noctilucous Jade.
Dagger and chalice in hand, you survey the area with a critical eye. Smiling, you point at an area of water.
"The water here is clean and clear so it fits the bill in what the ritual needs. Follow me Ganyu." Not bothering to look back you walk deeper into the water, even still the water only reaches above your knees.
"Words are not needed, only actions. Kneel and choose a place for me to cut you. Your blood has to fill the chalice to the brim."
She goes along with your words and kneels, letting the liquid soak her clothes without complaint. Grabbing ahold of her beautiful white sleeve, she pulls it off, exposing her arm.
"Cut my arm in a long shallow slit so it can be filled quickly without too much damage."
"Alright, let me go over the steps once more as your time is limited once it's filled." With practiced ease, you cut her arm and watch her blood flow into the chalice. Not even a peep escapes her from the pain.
"You'll hold the chalice with both hands raising it into the air to signify that you are offering. Keep your eyes closed and pray for what you wish to communicate to the creator. In this case, you want to pray for the creator to accept your blood offering as the first step to forgiveness. After that you'll just need to follow my lead."
Ganyu nods solemnly and you move the now filled chalice to her hands carefully to avoid spilling it. Her eyelids flutter shut as her hands hold the chalice high in the air. The air seems to still as her lips move to mouth a silent prayer.
The blood that drips down her arm and into the water seems hypnotizing. To think you’d really hurt someone to hide your lie. It's different then the case with Beisht; you hurt Beisht to prove your identity. What you have done to Ganyu is a line you may have to cross again in the future. What if you eventually kill someone to hide your lie? The thought seems ludicrous to you now but so did hurting someone before this moment...
Your thoughts seem to still when the blood dripping from her wound changes in color. No, not just color but in texture too. Those wine red drops shift to a mix of pink and blue. It solidifies into a small glittering object that clinks softly as it hits the water.  
It flashes for a moment before dissolving into water like it never existed. Was that truly what a primogem looked like in real life?
An indescribable feeling swells up in your chest, soft whispers lead your body closer to Ganyu without a fight. Shakily your hands cover hers as that intangible feeling urges you to speak.
'I accept your offering' is nearly spoken but even in this haze of dopamine and serotonin, your self control is firm.
"The Creator accepts your offering." Your words are shaky with unknown emotions. Is this Ganyu's feelings towards you as the creator? It's gentle and rests on your soul like a weighted blanket feebly trying to pull you into a deep sleep.
Reminding yourself of the ritual at hand, you begin to tilt the chalice toward the ground. The scripture never specified what would happen but the sight you receive is beyond what you could expect.
What pours out of the chalice is not scarlet liquid, but thousands of primogems that clink and clank as it hits the water. Just like earlier, it dissolves leaving bubbles that cloud the starry sky that was reflected on the surface.
When the last primogem hits the water, you release Ganyu's hands and step back. You look up at the night sky that begins to glow with color as your voice cuts through the tense silence.
"Open your eyes Ganyu, it's time to see your wish revitalized. The Creator accepted your offering after all."
Coral and lavender eyes open slowly and go wide at the sight of the sky. The chalice is gripped in tightly on her lap as the night blooms with blue and purple wishes.
A single gold star begins to travel through the air at high speeds. Noticing its course you step farther away from Ganyu as she stays kneeling in amazement at the sight.
Before anyone can speak, the gold shooting star hits Ganyu and engulfs her spot with a beam of light. It's harsh on your eyes but the game screen that automatically opens in front of you soothes it.
Ganyu's splash art is the only thing you see before you click it off with a triumphant smile. Skipping through all the other wishes and four star constellations, the game screen and gold light disappear at the same time.
A shocked and confused Ganyu could be expected. A quietly happy and thankful Ganyu was expected. But the half qilin adeptus silently bawling her eyes out as she stays kneeling in the water was what greeted you instead.
The other adepti don't hesitate to move to your area with inhuman speed from where they were watching. You expected Mountain Shaper to be the first one to attack you as Moon Carver stands protectively in front of Ganyu but it seems the adepti didn't like to respond logically.
Sharp talons wrapped around your neck as the weight of the crane pushes you back onto the water. The unexpected submersion has you coughing uncontrollably underwater as your body seems to be weighed down by something invisible.
Fingers dig into your throat as blurry yells make your heart pound with panic.
"It's all your fault!" 
"None of this would have happened if you didn't exist!"
"Should have just let me do what I want with you, you pathetic fuck!"
Sickle in hand your attacks are choppy as the electro sputters in and out of existence. The fingers turn into a bruising, clawed grip once more as your free hand grabs a fistful of feathers.
The crane is pulled away and by extension you're pulled out of the water too. The water droplets make your vision blur as you try to calm your hyperventilation into something less vulnerable.
Cloud Retainer is held back by all three adepti as she squawks with indignation. The ringing in your ears prevents you from hearing anything more than, "One has not seen Ganyu cry in such a way since she was a child!"
Ganyu seems more than embarrassed as she repeatedly tells Cloud Retainer something you can't be bothered to make out. Your nails dig into the blood and feathers in your hand as you stare at the missing patch of feathers on Cloud Retainers body.
You're cold, wet, hungry, and so very tired but that bald patch you left on the noisy crane makes you feel happy in a vengeful way. If you weren't still reeling from the near death experience you would have loved to comment on her new preen.
The situation seems to calm down as Ganyu and the rest explain something thoroughly to Cloud Retainer. It's obvious that she had gone on a rampage due to Ganyu's reaction without bothering to view the situation in full. A rare mistake for someone as meticulous as her.
With care and concern only for the present, you move to the edge of the mountain and stare out across the sky. The view of Liyue is muddled yet enhanced by the starry sky. The grass under your shoes is welcome in comparison to the pond that nearly swallowed you whole.
Your fingers mindlessly pick at the healing scabs and bruises from the treasure hoarder fiasco. The grimace on your face is not from the pain of the jostled arm but the uncomfortable feeling of wet bandages. Carefully, your fingers trace the new talon marks on your neck that you gained from Cloud Retainer. Should you get hurt by Moon Carver too, to collect wounds from all three?
The grass crunches behind you and you already know what is about to happen. Your eyebrows pinch in worry and your gaze rarely leaves the floor as the adepti stand face to face with them.
"I'm so sorry for my reaction earlier. I was so surprised and overjoyed that the sacrifice convinced the Creator to awaken me that I reacted in such a shameful way. It's due to my failure to keep my emotions in check that you got hurt. Please forgive me."
Your mind is blank but your body is well versed in what to do, what lies to say. Softening eyes are steady with Ganyu's as your fingers gingerly touch the claw marks.
"I understand Ganyu, the creator's grace is an amazing thing. Be sure to serve them properly from now on." With a near patronizing tone you speak to the adepti as a whole.
"Don't you see what damage you had done to me? The creator is love, peace, justice and truth. I hope you don't think they'll let Cloud Retainer and Mountain Shaper off easy for harming me who has taken on such a heavy and dangerous burden."
Facades are only good if you know how to upkeep and keep track of them. If you act like some soft pushover now, they'll be suspicious. You slide into the control seat of the spider web of lies you've created as easily as breathing. 
Rest? Mental breakdowns? Dissociative states? Hallucinations from past traumatic experiences? All of those things must be pushed into the crevice in your mind. The same crevice that seems to grow deeper and darker with each passing year since your birth. Those thoughts can consume you when you're safe, if that day ever comes.
They react exactly as you expected; haughty but thoroughly humbled with seeds of self doubt planted in their hearts. Breaking even a fraction of their pride in their fake-ass devotion brings a longing for them to crumble even more.
You go along with conversation while conserving as much energy as possible. Ganyu was the only one with enough sensibility to apologize to you so why should you care about the rest of them? If they had Ganyu carry and apologize in their stead then they should be just as fine with you only giving her actual attention.
Pointing out this fact seemed to stun them into a tense silence. Your body naturally goes on edge expecting some sort of attack but nothing comes. Instead they present you with a few apologies without using words.
"As a faithful servant of the Creator, you are welcomed anytime in Jueyun Karst, as well as any other areas that would be deemed off-limits within our authority."
"Why not stay in One's home for the night after the enlightening events that have occurred today? One is not a careless host and will be sure to provide all that you need during your stay."
It honestly wasn't a bad idea, your mind and body were not fit for teleporting to Liyue and setting up camp. You accepted the offer despite knowing that the sleep you will get will not be fulfilling.
The conversations they hold as you are fed and tended to flow in one ear and out the other. The most notable information you picked up was how they wanted to try the method themself and even spread it to Xiao in hopes of the creator lessening his karmic debt.
It's Ganyu that accompanies you to a guest room that Cloud Retainer somehow managed to not make messy. The other adepti seem to think that you like her in some way when little to their knowledge, you're simply fond of her.
Not in the way that you want to be near or interact with her. She apologized for being part of the reason you were attacked. She still hasn't apologized for all her previous rude actions. You liked her the same way as you did on Earth. Only as a character.
A voice whispers that it's better than how you refuse to associate with Ei in any way.
You lay down on a clean mattress in the comforting silence of the night. You're dry, warm, full, and comfortable yet still as on edge as before. The eyebags you wear are not from random all-nighters but from the never-ending cycle of lying for a living. Both on Earth and on Teyvat.
Sleep doesn't come easy, not with the constant fear of talons holding you down. Nor with the unease of amber cutting through your skin. Rest comes in spurts of deep sleep before hands are choking you again back into the waking world. 
Sometimes you wish you could forget who your family was too.
Your internal clock is all sorts of confused as you wake up for the 50th time. Judging by the lack of discomfort in your body, you couldn't have slept more than an hour. 
Pale green glows in the corner of your eyes making you speed into sitting position. You catch the faintest glimpse of a horned masked bearing large fangs and glowing teal eyes. 
You blink at the spot as your breath is harsh even to your own ears. Was it real? Was he here? Why would he be?
For what reason would he watch you sleep if not to investigate?
The cool mask calms your clammy skin. If he had looked under it, you wouldn't be here anyway. It's that morbid thought that brings you peace. 
How ironic.
Knowing that sleep will not come to you for a while, you get dressed and follow the vague memory of the path Ganyu took when bringing you to the guest room. 
It leads to the domain doors to the outside and the brush of your fingertips on the stone doors has it moving smoothly. The early morning sun warms the stone walkway as you exit into the free space.
The sight of the pond trudges up memories of yesterday. With a bright smile and light footsteps, you hurry down the staircase and jump over the water with ease.
"-yet how could we possibly forget such a vital ritual?" "One suspects larger factors are at play." "The records in our abodes should show-"
Catching the near ending of such a serious conversation, you slow down as they all turn to look at you.
"Awake already Y/N? Would you like a light breakfast?" Ganyu is the first to speak, the other adepti are surely still examining you. Now far more lucid than last night you are positive that having another meal with them would be a true nightmare.
"I'm not hungry when it's so early so I'll pass for now. There are many private duties that the creator asks of me and it would be best that I get straight to it. Yet there's a slight problem."
The adepti seem to tense up in unison, not that they are wrong for doing so. You've been a consistent thorn in their side since you met Mountain Shaper.
"You see, my body has not fully recovered from the injuries that I received from fighting the treasure hoarders. And with the how rough I was handled by you all, my injuries were reopened."
The wind ruffles your hair as if highlighting the bruise and talon marks. Your left hand is pressed against your chest making the sun shine on the bandaged arm. The parts of damaged exposed skin are the icing on the cake.
"Then what is it that you desire oracle of the beloved? Do you wish to check on the children that were saved?" Mountain Shaper's voice is like ice. Sharp when cold like yesterday but smooth when controlled correctly.
It was a good thing you slept, even if it was sucky. You almost missed out on such a great bargaining chip!
"That is one thing I plan to do when I head to the city but there's a few things before that. Since you're already offering to take me then it would be a great help if you can take me to this location."
Shamelessly you hold out the map in your handbook with the only commission location left.
Increasing Danger - Hilichurls are building towers in the circled area. Destroy these towers for the safety of the people.
Mountain Shaper sighs tiredly and is about to respond when you cut him off on purpose. 
"Oh and those ceremonial tools we used in the ritual yesterday? I need them. The creator is an all-loving deity that would never desire to push away the innocent and loyal beings in Teyvat unless they deserved it. The creator wishes to conduct more rituals if necessary."
Cloud Retainer seems to stare at you in shock at the forceful way you pushed for the items you desire. The dagger and chalice glint in the sunlight as she resists the urge to hide them from your greedy eyes.
"But before you drop me off for good at my commission site, I'll need you all to help me activate the teleport waypoints. There's no way I'm climbing those mountains again. Besides, the creator blessed you all with such power, how could you not use it to support a fellow devotee?"
Your smile widens to bare all your teeth as Moon Carver avoids looking directly at you. They may be reluctant but you always make sure to have your debts be paid with interest. The price for hurting, exhausting, and stressing you out is not one to sneeze at either.
Quite a few teleport waypoints were activated with the dagger and chalice safely in your bag. Adeptus powers really were useful in situations like these. Within half an hour you had activated enough to safely teleport around Jueyun Karst without fear of running into the adepti again.
As Mountain Shaper sets you down nearby the hilichurl camp and towers for your commission, his curiosity finally gets the best of him.
"For what reason did you discolor so many teleport waypoints?"
"I can teleport using them due to the creator's blessing. Now that I activated them, I can teleport to all of your mountains whenever I want to visit!"
Each word you say with a cheerful grin seems to send him deeper into agony. He nods tightlipped and flies away. The wind brings his muttered words to your words. 
"A vacation is in order. A vacation for as long as possible."
Messing with the adepti was really fun. You just hoped that they would go on vacation permanently, your job would be much easier that way.
All you have left is to finish this commission, teleport to the waypoint near the harbor's entrance and get your money. Simple as that. Opening the game window from your safe viewing spot of the hilichurl camp, you begin to review all the books on hilichurls.
First and foremost, thank you to the editor of this chapter @serpent-benediction! He was a huge help even if he terrorized me the whole time </3
It gives me more time to add some fun stuff like italics and bold. Stories pack more of a punch with flair, in my eyes at least. All the improvements to the chapter are his work like capitalizing Oracle and Creator. We did debate on whether adepti was species or title. So yall are free to give your opinion on which it is and whether it should be capitalized. I'm glad to see that (almost) all the build-up to the adepti part is finished. Well for the adepti at least. I was like dead tired after the choking part so that's why it may be a bit wonky. Now that I'm not pressed for time (yet. Sep is coming soon) I wanted to thank everyone for staying this long in the series! I love reading and responding to comments. I love reading the notes and/or tags from reblogs. I don't know if I should respond to reblogs like I do to comments. Cause I see some really in-depth reblogs that I wanna respond to but I end up not doing that thanks to my thoughts of-'Is that weird, strange or uncomfortable?' I just don't wanna scare anyone off. And for those that might wonder why Y/N was choking here but not with Beisht, it's due to Retainer. Retainer was using her adeptus power to pressure the water against Y/N which caused the drowning and bruises. I hope that clears it up a lil!
I'm a dumbass, I forgot the taglist. That's why it looked so short in my eyes. Everyone is allowed to yell at me for this (except for my editor) Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @sielt, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zeniths, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @undecidingfate, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @fluffy-koalala, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado
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cuubism · 4 months
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Morphology | Dreamling | 4.6k words | Explicit | AO3
eldritch Dream, genderfluidity of a kind, lots of smut, nonhuman organs, angst, body dysphoria, undefined body forms and transformation, brief eldritch panic attack, they/them pronouns for Dream
Dream is not meant to stay in one form. But they must, for that is the form that Hob knows. That Hob loves. Or so they think.
this is based on @gabessquishytum and their anon's post located here, about Dream believing Hob won't want him in all his nonhuman shapes, only to discover Hob is very much a monsterfucker... and also loves him very much. I was going to append it to the post but then it got kind of very long. Hope you don't mind me playing around!
---
It was not for dreams to be only one thing.
In the Dreaming, they morphed and shifted, merging from one form to another. Smoke to wind to water, lava to sparks back to stone. In the minds of dreamers they took every unconceivable form, a thousand impossibilities as various as the limbs of Destiny’s forking tree. They were all of unreality. All that could not be, all that was hoped for, fleeting, forgotten, or held, for a time.
In the Waking, it was different. Dreams Dream bent and condensed into a singular form. They he knew well enough from his dreamers that while fluid changeability may be accepted in the illogical narratives of dreams, it was not so in the Waking. To interact with humans, he must appear as one, with the limited mutability that allowed.
Which was not to say that Dream disliked his Waking form. He chose what was pleasing to him. But sometimes it felt… stifling, for one used to being as expansive as the clouds.
Particularly after his imprisonment. Kept like an insect pinned to a board. Immovable. When he was meant to move. When he was Morpheus. Shaper of Forms.
Dream put that away from him.
Hob liked this form of his. Dream had come to understand the way Hob looked on him, and he liked that Hob wanted this form. But. He was not meant to stay in this form. Not always. It was. Chafing. It was. Hurting.
No matter. He could stay in this form that Hob wanted, because more than wanting to break from this skin Dream wanted Hob’s love. And his desire. He wanted to keep Hob’s gentle, heated touch.
This form of lean muscle and sharp bone. This solid body that had endured Roderick Burgess’s prison but also received Hob’s love… he could keep it. Yes. He could. He could.
~~~
I am wind that wishes to storm. Cloud that edges on rain. I am caterpillar’s dream of flight, I am words of disbelieving, I am the hopeful light of new stars, I am— I am water’s dance with the shore, and the sun’s kiss of the moon, and— and— no—
“Yo. Roiling mass of terror that I’m pretty sure is the boss. You good?”
Dream opened their eyes. They did not have eyes, but no matter. Dreams were often about seeing. Matthew was standing on the sand before them, head cocked.
“You alright?” he repeated. “I couldn’t tell if the shrieking was a bad thing or just like. One of your things.”
“One of my things,” Dream repeated.
“Can never know,” said Matthew. He hopped onto an arm that Dream’s form generated just for him to stand on.
“I was not,” said Dream, “shrieking.”
“You were definitely shrieking,” said Matthew. “It sounded like a laundry machine dying.”
Dream grumbled in offense.
Matthew nudged his head against one of Dream’s hands. “Do you… wanna talk about it?”
Dream considered. “Do you often ponder your own physical form, Matthew?”
“Well, since I became a bird,” said Matthew. “Kinda weird. It’s cool, though. Who doesn’t dream of flying, amirite?” He flapped his wings in demonstration, lifting off Dream’s arm, then settling down again.
“And when you were human?” Dream asked.
“Every human thinks about their body, dude.”
“Did you desire to change it?” Dream pressed.
“You mean like a weight loss program?” said Matthew. “Those never work.”
“No,” said Dream. Their form morphed around them, here legs, there tail, wings, teeth. They could not make it settle, not on a human shape or on anything else. They felt— agitated. They should return to their usual human form. Should. “That is not what I meant.”
“Ohhhhhh,” said Matthew, and smacked his face with his wing in realization. “It’s this whole deal. Well, you could change it if you want? I mean. You’re doing it.”
“I did not mean to,” said Dream, their form still writhing around them, never landing on any one shape. “I—” they were meant to go see Hob. They had been cloaked properly in their usual shape. And. Something had snapped.
They remembered, now, falling to their knees on the sand, the careful construct of their human self, a body once worn easily as one of many, shattering into a million shards.
They should. Change. They should change back. They wished to see Hob, and Hob, for all his adaptability, was only human, he would not be able to tolerate this, this thing that could not even give itself a face, or decide what it was, this thing that found physical stasis anathema after so long pressed in glass. Hob cared for the being that he knew. Not this one that, Dream thought, sometimes did not even know itself.
“Whatever you’re doing, I think you should probably stop,” Matthew warned.
“You dare to question me?” Dream bit. He was condensing back down under his human mask, he could do it, he could. He had loved this form once. Could again. As one of many.
Matthew nipped at his hand with his beak. And it was only this that made Dream realize he was clawing at his face so hard he was bleeding starlight.
Solidity spiraled away from Dream again, and they let out a hard breath. It was useless. Whatever meager control they had maintained since their escape was slipping from them. It was pointless to pretend otherwise any longer. Or to pretend that they could truly offer Hob the form he was accustomed to.
“Matthew,” Dream said, and Matthew hopped to attention. “I have some business I must attend to. Please leave me now.”
“Are you sure—?”
Dream waved a hand and sent him back to the palace.
If it was impossible for them to consistently return to their prior state, then at least they should be done with it now. Show Hob what he was truly dealing with. That Dream was not what he thought. Or wanted. Then, at least, they would spare themselves any greater heartbreak.
Wrapping the barest trappings of their usual form around them like an ill-fitting coat, Dream stepped into the Waking.
~~~
Dream emerged directly onto Hob’s bed as a formless shadow. It felt good, to be formless. Normally, they did like to take a form, but to choose recently had been taxing.
Hob was awake and reading. Dream had been meant to come for dinner, and was late. When Dream appeared in a sudden fall of darkness, Hob shrieked and flung his book at them on instinct. It simply passed through Dream with no effect.
“Dream?” said Hob, gasping, the spike in his adrenaline clear. “Is that you, love? Somehow? Or am I about to get eaten?”
Those do not preclude each other, Dream said. Though as they were still a shadow, their voice was more a low rumbling vibration than a true voice.
“Not sure how I understood that,” said Hob. He tilted his head, trying to make out features in the darkness but not, Dream thought, managing it. “Always kind of knew you were more than you seemed,” he added. “Didn’t quite picture this, though.”
It is but one form I am capable of holding, Dream said. Strictly speaking, it was not quite a form at all. As they said it, they shifted, unconsciously, until they were the beam of lamplight caressing Hob’s face—Hob’s hand chased them across his own cheek—and then the lulling hum of traffic, comforting night sounds. Hob kept reaching for them, not quite knowing where he was reaching. And Dream slipped into his daydreams, his vision for what Dream’s many forms might be.
Hob’s daydreams were a comfortable place to land. Warm. Welcoming. And when Dream emerged, they were a thing of Hob’s imagining, something dark and shadowed and multi-faceted but ultimately. Touchable.
That was what Hob desired of them?
“Okay,” said Hob, “what actually is going on here? Are you okay?”
Dream did not reply, stuck on Hob’s daydreams. He did not wish for Dream to force themselves back into their usual form. He merely molded what Dream brought him into a form that was comprehensible to him.
Relief crashed over Dream, magnitudes greater than the dread they had refused to acknowledge. They knew, now, that they had truly expected this to be the end. To scare Hob off. But Hob did not seem to be scared.
“Dream?” Hob reached a careful hand toward them. He pet down Dream’s flank. Fur that was soft because he was touching it. He huffed an incredulous laugh. “Wow. It really is… you.”
“In some fashion,” said Dream.
“In some fashion,” Hob repeated. “In what fashion, exactly?”
Instead of answering, Dream butted their head into Hob’s shoulder. Following the relief of his touch, so much softer and more detailed, now that they did not have the barrier of a stifling form in the way.
“Darling,” Hob said, petting Dream’s hair, “need words.”
“No,” Dream mumbled petulantly. And Hob allowed them their petulance. Dream let out a long breath. It blew warm over Hob’s throat, and Dream felt him shiver. They trailed fingertips up Hob’s ribcage, along bare skin, feeling the stacked solidity of his bones. Hob shivered again.
“It’s like that, is it?” he said.
Dream shifted closer, half slither, half crawl, until their form, incomprehensible even to themselves, was draped over Hob’s lap. Bliss, there, the warmth of him. “You are not repelled?”
“By the ten arms? I think I can cope.” He pressed his lips in close to Dream’s ear. “In fact. I had a dream about this the other night. Well.” He laughed. “I guess I’m having a Dream about it now, eh?”
“Did you?” said Dream, ears pricking up. Had their… moods slipped into Hob’s dreams?
“Can’t remember the details,” Hob said. “But I remember how it felt.” He trailed fingertips up the bony knobs of Dream’s spine. Unlike Dream at the moment, Hob only had two arms, but Dream felt every press of his fingers acutely.
“How did it feel?” they whispered.
“Like,” Hob murmured, lips to Dream’s jaw now, “you were everywhere. Like I got into your body and made love to you from the inside out.”
The thought made all of the strange and varied nerves of Dream’s shifting body stand on end. They wrapped legs around Hob’s waist, arms around his shoulders. Scraped sharp teeth over his pulse. “Really?”
Hob laughed. “Interested now, are you?”
“Yes,” Dream rumbled, their form flickering in excitement, to shadow then a falling rainbow of light, to a mass of vines that wound all around Hob’s body, and then into roots, as if they could grow into Hob, then branching veins pulsing and racing with Hob’s heartbeat, then back to a morass of half-body, half-shadow, because yes, they wanted to be held by Hob, they must remember that.
Hob was still for several moments, then laughed incredulously. “Okay. You’re so cool. I don’t know what to do with any of that, so I’m going to have to wing it.”
He traced a hand along the soft feathers of a wing that had grown with his words. Dream shuddered. A sensitive part of the body, indeed.
“You’re gorgeous,” Hob murmured. “My strange creature.”
Dream purred in pleasure, wrapping their wings around Hob’s back, mouth catching on the edge of his jaw, and, incredibly, felt Hob growing hard under them, as he would if Dream lounged in his lap and mouthed at his jaw as a human.
“You like this,” Dream said, unable to keep the surprise from their voice.
Hob chuckled. “Didn’t you know I fell for you the second I saw the spark of the otherworldly in your eyes? Just didn’t know the whole of what I was looking at. Not then.”
The spark of the otherworldly. “You are in love with dreams.”
“Figured it out by now, yeah.”
“You are. In love. With this,” Dream said, voice echoing from more than one throat, choked up.
“With this? You mean with you?”
“I do not know quite what I am, now,” Dream admitted.
“Well,” said Hob, slipping a hand between them. Dream gasped in pleasure, wings fluttering involuntarily. “You want to find out?”
Squirming against his hand, Dream said, “Do you even know what it is you are touching?”
“Haven’t a clue,” Hob said cheerfully. “Made you go all shivery, though.”
It had. It was. Dream writhed in his lap as Hob experimented, moaned in startled pleasure, toes curling. Body shifting to hurtle towards that arousal. Hob startled as his hand was suddenly enveloped in heat, something he could press into, and Dream whined, so full all at once with no prelude, body twisting out of control without their explicit direction. But it was good.
Hob gripped them by one wing—these had stayed even as Dream’s form continued to spin—and Dream quivered as Hob pulled them closer, pressing his hand deeper into slick heat. He was grinning against Dream’s throat, scraped light teeth over his pulse, sucked a bruise there. Dream’s form rode the wave of his daydreams, provided a wet mouth for him to bite and kiss as soon as he thought of it. Dream tangled long fingers in his hair, claws digging in.
“Can I fuck you like this?” Hob breathed against his lips.
“If you can cope with me changing on you,” Dream said. “I am not. Entirely in control. At the moment.”
A shameful admission, but Hob groaned as if it was the hottest thing he could think of. “I get to have you multiple ways at once? Oh, how will I manage?”
Dream laughed. It may have been a bit teary. Their many hearts were racing, lungs stuttering for air. Wings shivered, feathers fluttering. A long, furred tail wound its way up Hob’s back to wrap lightly around his throat, possessive. Dream would not let this man go now. Could not.
“Budge up, let’s see what we’re dealing with,” Hob said, probing deeper under Dream’s form with his hand, the other still firm on Dream’s wing, which he seemed to have understood was very sensitive, and intended to press that advantage as much as he could.
The touch of Hob’s hand, in Dream, on them, around them, was bliss. Dream wished to be full of him again. To, as Hob had dreamt, be made love to from the inside out.
Riding that hope, their body shaped another hole for his questing fingers. Hob obligingly pressed his fingers in, but said, “Regrettably, darling, I’ve only got one cock, and I had other plans for my hands.”
“Regrettable, indeed,” said Dream, and Hob laughed. Then, “Plans?”
“Oh, yes. I expect some other interesting things may crop up, eh? Need hands free.” He leaned in close to Dream’s ear, which flicked toward him to listen. “I’m going to find every erogenous zone on this body and make it scream.”
Goosebumps broke out all over Dream’s body. They clung to Hob with every limb they could find. Hob grinned wickedly at this reaction. It was a look Dream knew well, one that always boded very well for them indeed.
Hob worked Dream open on two fingers—though he need not, Dream was already wet and gaping for him—then maneuvered his sleep shorts off, took his cock in hand and stroked it twice, hand slick with Dream’s fluids. Then he lifted Dream bodily and sank them back down on his cock.
Dream whined, careening up several registers, as they were filled so suddenly, as they took Hob to the base. Hob groaned at the feeling of their body. Dream tried to adjust to him but couldn’t, Hob’s cock pressed on sensitive spots deep within them, and any time they thought they’d gotten used to the feeling their body produced a new place to torment.
They clawed at Hob’s back, leaving red lines with sharp fingers. Hob gave an experimental thrust, shifting Dream in his lap, and Dream bit down on a scream as their body lit up, chasing the feeling, loving it, magnitudes more affected than in their usual, limited form.
“Wow,” Hob said, fond laughter in his voice, and heat too, as Dream panted wetly in his ear, “this is going to be fun. Have you been all worked up, my darling? Just needed someone to give you what you really need?”
“Needed you,” Dream murmured. They clenched around Hob, tried to steady themselves, but it only made things worse. Everywhere deep inside them was searing flame, their skin-feathers-fur prickly with static, they feared and needed Hob’s touch in equal measure. To soothe. To set alight.
Hob slipped a hand into the other space Dream had left to tempt him, probing deep. Dream bit down on his ear, drawing spots of blood. Hob drew his hand back, met one of Dream’s many eyes. Licked Dream’s fluids from his hand.
Dream lunged forward to kiss him, whimpering into Hob’s mouth as that drove them impossibly deeper onto Hob’s cock. Hob pulled them close, kissed them hard, caught a fistful of Dream’s hair and pulled. Dream’s body decided that it liked that very much, indeed. They whined at the grip, clawing at Hob’s skin with many hands.
Hob brought them close with a firm hand, bounced Dream in his lap, moving them on and off his cock. Dream wailed, overstimulated by all the angles of his touch, torn between pulling away and diving closer as Hob swept his tongue into their mouth, over sharp teeth and soft palate.
“There’s a love,” Hob breathed. “Does that feel good, darling?”
Dream couldn’t offer a reply, and Hob didn’t wait for one. He dug his fingers into the tight feathering of Dream’s wing and tugged. Dream shrieked, wings flapping wildly, sets of them bursting along their back, more, more, less, more. Hob didn’t let up, stroking his fingers through the feathers, dragging over soft skin, sucking on Dream’s throat all the while.
Dream saw white, their body seized up, and the nebulous hole Hob was using to fuck them morphed into a mouth.
Hob yelped to suddenly feel his cock grazing over shielded teeth. Then he laughed. “Don’t you dare bite my dick off, you menace. It’s horrible to regrow it.”
Dream would have asked how he knew that, except Hob’s cock was down their throat. They choked, swallowing around him. Dream did not need to breathe, and so the pressure was exquisite. Their long tongue wrapped around Hob to the base, caressed his balls. Explored further, along his perineum, to probe at his entrance, and then press in.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck—” Hob’s voice was a strangled shout. “Dream what the actual fuck are you doing?” It didn’t sound like a complaint.
I am fucking you with my tongue, Dream said, a hum directly from their form to Hob’s.
“I can bloody well tell, Jesus Mary and—”
Dream purred and rumbled in pleasure, the satisfaction of taking and being taken at once, of being inside their beloved and having Hob inside them in turn. As Hob had dreamt.
Hob’s fingers pressed into Dream. Dream’s form gave and made places for him to press into. Hob’s fingers tickled deep within them, starlight and heat tracking their path. Dream swirled in an indefinite vortex of shape, a hundred things at once, their body prickling all over with the pleasure of Hob’s touch.
Hob twisted against them, clenching down on their tongue, shouted “Dream!” and came down Dream’s throat. Dream swallowed him down in pleasure, retracted their tongue from Hob’s body, eliciting a long moan. They let Hob pull out, and licked the final taste of Hob from their lips before letting that mouth disappear into their form, the traces of Hob consumed.
And then Hob flipped them, somehow manhandled Dream’s indefinite form down to the mattress, pressed down immovably on legs and arms and wings so that the softest parts of Dream’s body were bared to him. Dream reached for him, always they reached for him, cock hard and straining, cunt aching, the slashes of their being weeping for Hob to come inside. Always weeping. They cried out, every inch of them trembling for Hob’s touch.
“You gorgeous nightmare,” Hob said. “You brilliant daydream. Oh, my darling, I love you so much. I’d do anything for you. Anything. But mostly I want to do this.”
He pressed his mouth to where Dream’s body strained for him.
Hob had a very talented and generous mouth, which Dream had blessedly been on the receiving end of many times. This was different: Dream’s form echoed out Hob’s touch, replicated it a hundred times over so every crevice of their body could feel the flat swipe of his tongue, how he drank Dream’s fluids down, the drag of his stubble over lips and folds and the soft skin of thighs. Dream’s many limbs trembled, bent, reformed themselves in ecstasy, they dragged at Hob’s hair, pressing his face deeper so Dream could grind against him, which only made Hob grin.
Hob pressed two fingers into Dream’s mouth and Dream greedily sucked on them, grounding themselves. Taking Hob in more than one way at once… yes. That was what they wanted. They closed their many eyes and gave themselves over to sensation. Hob’s mouth and tongue, the taste of him, the weight of his body as he bent Dream on the bed, his scent, musk and the woodsmoke that seemed to cling to him all these years later—or perhaps that was only in dreams.
They were a dream of completion. They were a dream of ecstasy. Of flight. Hob’s hand tangled in their fragile feathers. Hob’s mouth and fingers inside them. Then Hob plunged three fingers hard, deep within them, as he sucked on Dream’s clit, and with a piercing noise like glass shattering Dream came.
They were. Fragments. The individual colors splayed wide by a prism. Red, yellow, blue. Hob’s fingers trailed through them, blending the colors like paint in water. For several moments Dream drifted, more thought than being. Distantly aware of Hob’s weight on them. It felt… like kindness. Then they floated back to the present, light as the first flight of unfurled moth wings.
Hob was lying on them, looking at them, head tilted. A twinkle in his eyes. He skated his hands up Dream’s sides. Flowers bloomed in the wake of his touch, their soft petals shivering with sensitivity. Hob plucked one of the flower buds and, holding Dream’s gaze, ate it. Swallowed it. Dream watched the movement of his throat.
Inside out, he thought.
“Broke you into pieces,” Hob said then, with satisfaction. “Think I might have seen God for a sec there. Can do better, though.”
“Better?” Dream echoed, voice hoarse. Their form shifted, still, but slowly, languidly. No longer restless. A dark wing draped over Hob’s back. A tail played with his hair. He didn’t seem to mind.
“There’s so much we can do with this,” he said. He gazed at Dream, fond, terribly knowing. “Only getting started, love. I love—” he kissed Dream’s belly, a light, ghosting touch, and tickled Dream’s side with his fingertips— “how sensitive you are like this.”
“I—” Dream started. Absent the writhing need, now they just felt… stripped. Vulnerable. “I expected that you would. Not. Like this. It is not. Human.”
“Neither are you,” Hob pointed out.
“I appear so,” Dream said.
Hob snorted. “No, you don’t.”
Dream stared at him, unable to decide whether or not to be offended.
“I wear the guise of a human,” they insisted, and, to prove it, morphed back into the form that Hob would know as his lover. It was an easier coat to wear, now that they knew they could take it off.
“No, keep the wings,” Hob complained. “Those are cool.”
Dream obligingly returned wings to their form.
“I appear human, to you,” they insisted again.
“Dream, I say this with all the love in my heart, which is quite a lot because I do. Love you.” He leaned on his hand, looking at Dream with sparkling eyes. “You look about as human as a kid wearing a bedsheet looks like a ghost.”
Dream stared at him, mouth agape.
“Don’t worry, it’s a gorgeous costume,” Hob said. “Love it. Really, really do. But I could always tell that wasn’t the whole truth of the matter. Especially once I got close.” With this, he winked.
“A part of me is human,” Dream said. Had Hob truly always seen through them? Paid so close attention as to perceive the translucence of the mask? “For I am the dreams of humanity.”
“And a part of you isn’t,” said Hob. “For—” he mimicked the cadence of Dream’s speech, though not in a mocking way— “you are also the dreams of birds, and shadows, and stars.”
Dream nodded. “These and more.”
“Brilliant,” said Hob.
Brilliant, Dream thought.
Then Hob tilted his head, thinking back. “You expected me not to like that?”
“Recently,” said Dream slowly, “I found I could not maintain this form without pain. And so my hand was forced.” It hurt still, to think of. “I had no choice but to make my true form—or rather, my true formlessness—known to you if I wished to be here at all.”
Hob pushed himself up from where he was lying on Dream’s chest, and instead straddled his hips so he could take Dream’s face between his hands. “It hurts?” he demanded.
“At times,” said Dream. “More so. Since.” They didn’t finish the sentence.
“Why are you doing it now, then?”
“It does not hurt so much now,” Dream said. “It is simply that when I stay static, it begins to. Ache.”
“Ache,” Hob repeated, looking stricken. “Dream, if it hurts, then change back. Be a chimera or whatever the hell you were doing before.”
“That is how you interpreted it?”
“To be honest, I don’t think my brain was really interpreting it at all. You were just kind of… everything.” He stroked a fingertip along the fine bone of Dream’s wing, which was folded against their back now. “Did like the wings, though.”
“I’d noticed that.”
“Cheeky.” Hob shook himself. “Getting distracted. The point is, don’t hurt yourself. I don’t want to see you hurt yourself.” He tipped his head against Dream’s, lips to their skin. “Much rather see you how were today.”
“How?”
“Letting go. Enjoying yourself.” He smirked, Dream felt it against their temple. “Making all kind of lovely noises. Squealing. Shrieking—”
“I was not shrieking.”
“You were shrieking.”
Hob tickled his fingers through Dream’s feathers, and Dream made an embarrassing squeak. They smacked Hob in the face with that wing, and Hob burst out laughing, even though he had to pull a feather out of his teeth.
“I love you,” he said. “Don’t hurt yourself. Be... the indefinably strange creature that you are. And just trust me to keep up.”
Hob kissed them lightly on the lips. Dream leaned into him, made still for a moment by the depth of Hob’s care for them, how Hob caught all of their longing and swallowed it, kept it warm. How he loved Dream. And dreams.
Hob drew them both down to the bed, and the covers over them, and Dream let their other forms creep out, hesitant, but hungry for Hob’s affection. And a creature that was the sky’s dream of nightfall and the poetry of rain upon a still lake, that was the individual patterns of snowflakes and the sculptures built of their drifts, that was ambitious owl and frightened vole, quiet soil and its thoughtful worms, shape and narrative and human, too, of course, laid down its many heads, and curled its much-loved wings over its lover, and rested in his dreams.
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grandboute · 4 months
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Surfing spirit by Jym
C'est reparti !
Jymarawak surfboards in Oleron
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idkfitememate · 5 months
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I NEED A CONTINUATION OF GOLDEN WEASEL!
As you sat wrapped around The Old Man’s neck, you watched as the scenery of Liyue passed you both by.
No one stared, looked, or even glanced at him, you guess it was noticeably pissing you off, because he began to gently scratch under your chin. You leaned into the gentle touch, making him chuckle.
The hand he wasn’t using to pet you was gripped around a cane, a basket hanging off his arm as well. Compared to rest of Liyue, he was dressed in extremely traditional clothing, his hair was tied into a traditional top knot with a beautiful guan. He also had a nice little beard. With his looks, you honestly wondered how old the man was, because on top of his… well his beauty, his home - despite it being a house boat - was also decked out in traditional furnishings and decor.
The only accessory you had was an earring made of mora with a dragon modeled after Morax attached to the bottom - it was a hanging earring. When you found out your old man had spent ONE HUNDRED MORA ON IT, you scolded him for an hour. Him kneeling as you stood on your hind legs loudly chittering at him.
The only reasons you wore it was because:
A. He bought it as a thank you for staying by his side, even in old age.
And
B. The damn thing cost a hundred mora why the fuck wouldn’t you
And finally
C. It helped differentiate you from other weasel thieves.
As you continued down the lanes, his little basket began to fill up, though its weight never seemed to bother him. You’d often chirp at him to see if you could carry it - you were strong for a weasel - but he’d just shake off your concerns with another chuckle.
And as you continued, you began to feel sleep with the gently sway of his body slowly walking along the paths, and probably would’ve too, if it weren’t for the fact that he stopped to speak with someone. Wait no that’s red and black bird.
… wait a minute.
“Mountain Shaper, my friend. Why do you walk among the mortals this fine day? To what do we owe the pleasure?” Did you mention The Old Man spoke super fucking eloquently? Because he does.
“Nothing but a stroll. And why are you here, old friend?” Wait Old Man knew an Adeptus? Old friend? What the hell-
“Ah, simply retrieving some items from the merchants. Nothing more. And as much as I’d adore to stay and chat, I must be off, so as to make me and my little friend here’s daily afternoon tea time, hehe!” You noticed that the Adeptus’s eyes were now on you, but only with a hint of curiosity.
“I see… well don’t let me take up more of your time.” The bird mused.
“Well actually… I believe we may have space for one more, if you’d care to join.” You looked around to see if anyone else was seeing this shit, but it seemed like no one else was around.
“Well if you’d allow me…” And with that, you were now walking with an Adeptus towards The Old Man’s houseboat. Feeling a bit bold, you stuck a paw out in the direction of the bird. All he did was glance at you, before chuckling. You smacked your lips before settling down on Old Man’s neck.
Your mind drifted as you thought of what tea he would make today… maybe Mountain Shaper would have something new in mind… perhaps a story awaited you as well… you yawned and closed your eyes, pressing your face into into the crook of your neck.
“You feel it as well, don’t you my friend.” Mountain Shaper asked.
“I do.” The Old Man responded.
“Will you ever tell them-“
“Only when the time is right.” The Old Man interrupted. “Now, they just want to live, and I will allow them that freedom. I have no right to strip that from them.”
“You sound like the God of Freedom.” The bird chuckled, making the Man sigh.
“Be quiet before I tie your beak shut.”
“*GASP* You wouldn’t dare!”
“I may not be as nimble as I was back then, but you and I both know you’d have no chance, especially if I actually tried.~”
“WHY YOU-“
Uh oh, Old Man had a secret, what ever will it be?~ Anyway, Weasel really just wants to live life. And since we’re doing some past stuff now, I imagine they were a petty thief in their past life, which is why they became a little thieving guy in Genshin ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა!
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brittle-doughie · 3 months
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With Baker’s Love. (Valentines Day 2024 Special)
As the Baker, you made sure every one of your cookies felt like they were cared for, that you watched over them as evenly as every cookie across Earthbread. The chocolates you send into various mailboxes were always a treat to the cookies, something that they savored and cherished throughout the day…
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Yogurt Cream Cookie rode upon his flying carpet as he headed to the front of his palace. Normally, he’d have his servants handle things for him. On the day of Valentines though, he must be the one to inspect what’s sent to them. It’s just as delectable every year, a packaged box of heart shapers chocolates along with a note of love from his beloved Baker.
He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he read it, popping a chocolate into his mouth. He sighed contently as the pure sweetness of the chocolate melted as he ate it.
“The sweetest when they make it themselves. Truly something that Coins can never buy…~”
He floated back inside his palace with the box in his hands, nothing but the Baker on his mind…
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Walnut Cookie could not have pulled out the two boxes of chocolate fast enough from the mail as she hurried back inside, Almond Cookie couldn’t help but smile at his daughter’s enthusiasm, he did a good job keeping his hidden. The Baker’s chocolate was the best there is, the sweetness gave him the energy he needed for the number of cases he was on for the week, it surpassed even that of the coffee he has on occasion.
“Looks delicious! Oops, I should’ve tested if it’s safe to eat first…”
Walnut felt embarrassed to have gone through most of her box already in front of her dad, something he assured was okay. This was chocolate, not evidence of a crime scene. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit when Walnut went right back to enjoying her box, as he ate some chocolate himself, feeling energized already. If he could taste love in food, he was tasting it right now…
Baker, never stop being incredible, he’d thought to himself.
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Gifts never failed to make Strawberry Cream Cookie feel a bit warm, he still remembered Stollen Cookie gifting him a story book. But when it came to gifts from the Baker themself? He’d drop whatever he was doing and get it right away, the chocolate box was no different.
He made sure to go to somewhere secluded in the academy to taste them, he couldn’t stop the blushing when the first chocolate touched his taste buds, it felt like a warm hug that made him his whole being shiver
“With this, I’ll never feel tired running through the forest..”
He had another and another and another, never getting over the taste…
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“I knew the Baker was in love with me.”
Lychee Dragon Cookie couldn’t stop the sly smile on their face when they received the chocolate addressed from the Baker. It was such a not-surprise to them that it garnered no bigger excitement then a brief wide-eyed look.
“I don’t need chocolates to know the Baker had fallen for my charms, heehee”
Hearing that, one of their monsters tried to take the chocolate from them…only to be met with an extremely angry Lychee in return!
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“HEY! I NEVER SAID I DIDN’T WANT THEM! GO AWAY!”
The monster understandly retreated away in fear from Lychee’s outburst as they continued to glare at them from afar. Lychee did a double check around before opening it and hastily eating a piece, unable to stop the dreamy sigh from them.
Just one “I love you, Lychee Dragon Cookie” from the Baker’s mouth themself, just one….and they’ll be a happy dragon for a long time…
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“Very classy~ You know my tastes very well, my Baker~”
Chocolate Bonbon Cookie couldn’t help but admire the way the chocolates looked and tasted, it was like they were expertly crafted specifically for her tastes as she brought them into her establishment.
The texture, the refined flavor, nothing short of amazing that she should’ve expected from the Baker. That never stops her from getting surprised that the chocolates only seemed to taste even better every year!
It just gave her so many new clothing and style ideas that used the finest chocolate she can get, It would be no problem to even send you some of them as a thank you for the chocolates.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to keep in touch with her fellow fashion cookies..if only to have some more of your chocolate from them, she giggled to herself.
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Valentines Day was just one of many occasions to show how much you adore your cookies, even newcomers that had joined you were never treated any differently then ones that have been with you since the beginning. A chocolate from you is enough to make their day, maybe even their whole month!
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